


Fall apart and start again

by Drago



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, College, Discussion of Abortion, Dub-con is between Mickey and Ian, F/M, Facials, Fisting, Ian is the asshole, Jealous Ian, Kind of cheating, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mickey the mechanic, New York, Object Insertion, Prostitution, Sad Mickey, Yev and Lana aren't really Milkoviches here, dub-con, flatmates, ian has no chill, thank you Placebo for titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drago/pseuds/Drago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mandy got away from Southside when they were young, Mickey wasn't so lucky. </p><p>AU in which they live in New York, Ian and Mandy are in college, Mickey is just trying to make an honest living.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will never be a native, right.  
> 

Every morning Mickey wakes up feeling grateful. Or as grateful as Mickey Milkovich can be which, admittedly, is not a whole lot.  
Every morning he wakes up a little bit scared too and has to look around to make sure that he is in New York, and not in the Southside of Chicago, with his piece of shit father sleeping next room and useless brothers snoring loudly surrounded by dirt and guns. He hasn’t seen them for almost three years but he can’t shake off this habit. Because as long as they are alive they can still find him, even if it’s not very likely.  
Life is as good as it gets for a male Milkovich, he supposes. He rents a decent flat, has decent jobs and finally no one kicks the shit out of him just because he can, because he hates what Mickey is. And then there is his sister, finally living with him, working on becoming the first Milkovich to get a degree. Mickey is proud of her, though he’ll never tell her that. He might be a waste of space, but Mandy always deserved better. They didn’t grow up together which is probably why she is like that. She had a skank phase when she banged more guys than any other girl around, wore skirts short enough to show her ass, and still has dirty mouth, but it’s nothing like what Mickey has.  
They have same parents, but when their mother finally decided that she was done with their father she took Mandy with her, disgusted with male Milkoviches, no matter how small they were. Maybe he shouldn’t blame her, Terry has never been a decent human, but he did. He was only five when she fucked off, he did nothing wrong to her, and yet she decided he wasn’t worth her love. His older brothers were already showing signs of becoming like Terry, but he was fucking five…  
It was when the real abuse started, everything before seemed almost like a game in comparison. Mickey clearly remembers being six and crying because glass from a broken bottle cut his foot, and he remembers Terry screaming at him, calling him a worthless pussy, and shoving him into the cabinet. It was the last time he cried in front of his father. He grew up to be a thug, got his knuckles tattooed by a piss poor “tattoo artist” at the age of thirteen for a sloppy blow job because yeah, Mickey Milkovich just had to be one of the things his father hated the most – gay. Or, like Terry liked to call it, ‘a dirty faggot AIDS monkey’. He did a good job of hiding it from people, even Mandy didn’t know, and they talked a lot even if they didn’t live together. He fucked girls to show off to his brothers, dealt with guns, coke and went to juvie for stealing. No fairy would be like that, right?  
Of course he had to slip-up. One of his brother’s friends came over despite the fact that Mickey was the only one at home, and made it very clear what he wanted. The boy wasn’t sure he wanted to give him that, it wasn’t his first time or anything, but the guy was big, not really his type. He was seriously huge, with neck almost as thick as Mickey’s thigh, so he gave in, and Terry caught him with a dick up his ass. What happened after that is a bit of a blur, but he is pretty sure that if he didn’t manage to run away he’d be long dead. He was shy of eighteen and planned on getting away anyway, but having to do it even earlier didn’t help. He came back for his things when the house was empty and left for New York. First three months have been difficult, but not unbearably so. NY was different. Different was good in his books. At first it was hard for him to trick people into trusting him enough to give him a job, and he did few things he’d never tell anyone about, but he was smart enough to pretend that he was not as dangerous as he looked. He found an old guy who was willing to take on an apprentice and managed to become a pretty good mechanic. He also found a job as a bartender in a gay club. Personally he never drinks fancy stuff, but he does alright with mixing colourful, fruity drinks.  
Mandy was supposed to come to New York right after high school, but she found a decent job and stayed another year in Chicago, saving money for college, even though her mother was willing to help her with bills. Extra money never hurts, and Mandy likes to party.  
But she is in NY now, three weeks, and she got a part time job almost immediately after she started looking for one. Probably because she is a little bit nicer and friendlier than Mickey. Or maybe because she doesn’t have _FUCK U-UP_ tattooed on her knuckles. He enjoys having her around, even if she spends most of her time at college, work or with her new friends. It’s nice because she is the only family he has.  
Her mother calls at least once a week, and Mickey leaves if she calls while they’re in the same room. He wants absolutely nothing to do with her.

***

Mandy doesn’t bring her friends over because she knows Mickey doesn’t like new people, so he is surprised when he comes home on Friday and sees a redhead sitting on his couch, drinking his beer and laughing loudly. Mandy is sitting next to him looking happy, and Mickey doesn’t want to spoil it for her, but…  
“What the fuck,” he says in a way of greeting.  
“Hey assface, that’s Ian Gallagher! We go to the same college.”  
Mickey grunts and goes to the kitchen ignoring the outstretched hand.  
“Nice to meet you too, Mickey. Mandy told me a lot about you,” the redhead says, unperturbed by rude behaviour.  
“Ian is staying for dinner, are you ordering pizza?”  
“Yeah.”  
He eats with them only because they wouldn’t leave him alone, and he is too tired to argue. He knows something is on even before they say anything, and wonders if he’ll have to beat up ginger a bit, just to make sure he understands the rules.  
“So look, Ian doesn’t really have a place to stay, and I thought he could stay with us. We have a spare room we don’t need, and we’ll have more money to spend if we let him share bills.”  
“What happened to your last place?” because Mickey assumes he had to live somewhere before, and it’s important to have some dirt on your future flatmate.  
“It’s a bit… My landlord’s wife wanted me out.”  
“Why?”  
“…because I fucked him.” Ah, gay. He doesn’t have to break his legs after all, not yet.  
“Whatever. Don’t be too loud, pay on time, don’t bother me, and we have a deal.”  
Ian’s bright smile makes him sick.

Mickey starts his shift at the bar at 9PM, and he has plenty of time to change into work clothes before, at home, but he doesn’t. Mandy thinks it’s a regular bar, probably a hovel of some sort, and he wants it to stay that way. His work clothes just scream ‘gay bar’. He has to wear tight, black trousers and a vest which shows more than it covers, clings to him like a second skin and has some fucking glitter on it, or whatever that is.  
In Chicago he wouldn’t be seen dead in it, but in New York he doesn’t have a choice, so he pretends it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes clients think he is some sort of a boy toy, despite his badass tattoos and permanent scowl, and try to feel him up. They think is one of the pretentious, preppy dudes, he proves them wrong by squeezing their fingers so hard they cry, or by punching them. It rarely ever takes more than one, relatively weak punch to get the message across.  
His boss thinks it’s hot, so he doesn’t even scold him for that. His boss generally thinks Mickey is hot, so there is a lot he can get away with.

“So I need to tell you something,” Ian looks uneasy. It’s a rare occurrence, so Mickey actually stops what he is doing to look at him. The redhead is a one, smug fucker most of the time.  
“Yeah?”  
”I’ve been here for two weeks already, and…”  
“Spill, I don’t have a whole day.”  
“I’m bipolar. I know you don’t really care, but we’re living together, so you should know. I’m on meds, so it’s alright, but I still get weird at times, don’t get freaked out if happens.”  
Sixteen year old Mickey would have no idea what being bipolar meant and would definitely freak out. Hell, eighteen year old him would too. But now he knows better, it is what it is, and there is no point in making Gallagher worry about it even more than he obviously does. It doesn’t affect Mickey in any way, so he just mumbles ‘whatever’ and continues with his dinner. Ian smiles at him shyly, but he pretends not to see.  
He spends as little time with Gallagher as he can. Not because younger man is bipolar, but because he could ruin Mickey. Ian is the kind of man that Mickey would go for when he was younger, the kind of man the old Mickey would give the dirty, twisted version of love that he was capable of. If they met when Mickey was a teenager they’d probably start banging, have a heated affair with lots of sex and punches thrown. They would quickly burn out, after few months or maybe two years, if they were lucky. Ian’s illness would tear them apart, or Mickey’s internalized homophobia would.  
But Mickey is older now and knows better. He can’t say he is out and proud, since he still doesn’t want his family to know, but he is more open and finally listens not only to his body, but to his mind as well. And the sensible part of him thinks that the redhead is not for him.  
In some ways, they’re similar, and Mickey is sure their sex would be amazing. Mickey knows sex, feelings and relationships may not be his forte, but sex definitely is. He has lots of it, there is one partner that can actually be considered a regular, and then there are others. Perks of working in a gay bar.  
Ian brings guys home, not boyfriends, but one night stands or fuck buddies. Mickey is glad that he paid extra attention to walls’ thickness while choosing a flat because it definitely pays off now, he and Mandy can’t hear a thing when Ian has people over. Or maybe he is just careful. He doesn’t have any feelings for the redhead, but he knows he could develop them. Younger man is tall, hot and interesting, even Mandy wanted to bang him before she knew he is gay. It’s easy to fall for a guy like Ian, so Mickey ignores him, doesn’t even bother to get to know him better.  
Which is why it takes him month and a half to learn that Gallagher is from the same neighbourhood, or at least used to be, before his sister found a better job and moved with him and his siblings to a better part of Chicago. It’s another person that got away, and it makes Mickey bitter. He had to fight his way out of this shithole, and it was anything but easy. It’s not fair, it’s not Mandy’s or Ian’s fault that no one ever cared about him enough to help, but he is not a saint. It’s okay as long as he keeps his bitterness to himself, no one needs to know about it.

***

The bell is ringing, Mandy is taking a bath, so Ian goes to open the door. He is positive it’s either for him or Mandy anyway, because the older man had no guests since Ian moved in three months ago. But it’s someone he doesn’t know, a guy slightly taller than him, build and handsome with a bright smile that disappears when he sees Ian.  
“Is Mickey around?” the guy asks sounding rather uncertain. There is a curse from the kitchen and suddenly Mickey is right next to them.  
“I got it, you can go now,” Mickey addresses Ian, and then adds a quick ‘What’s up?’ to the visitor.  
“I need to talk to you about work,” man says and Ian swears he sees a hint of a blush on his flatmate’s cheeks.  
“Uh, sure. Let’s go to my room.” There is something weird about the whole exchange, it’s obvious that both men are nervous because of him, but he doesn’t know why. He wants to, but Mickey rarely ever talks to him, so there isn’t much he can do. He tries to eavesdrop on them, obviously, but he doesn’t hear a thing during the hour the man spends in Mickey’s room. Mandy also doesn’t know anything about this guy. She begrudgingly admits that there are many things her brother is not telling her.  
The man leaves, but Mickey stays in his room, not bothering to walk him out, and they don’t see him for the rest of the night.

Mickey enjoys cock in a way he was never allowed in Chicago. He is good at sucking it, can deepthroat like a porn star and loves it too. More than that he loves being fucked by one, likes them long and thick, and if anyone calls him a bitch for it, he can be sure he’ll get his teeth knocked it. It took Mickey years to accept that maybe wanting a dick in his ass doesn’t make him a bad person. Dealing drugs does. Beating people up does. But not taking it up the ass.  
“So, your flatmate is hot,” it’s the first thing Jason, his boss, says when Mickey walks in, day after the encounter with Ian.  
“Is he? What, you wanna fuck him? I think it can be arranged, he seems to be easy and into older guys from what I noticed.”  
“I can’t be that much older, and he isn’t my type, I like ‘em small and angry,” Jason wiggles his eyebrows like a perv that he is. “But maybe you could tap that. Just an idea.”  
“Yeah, no. I’m not fucking someone I live with.”  
“If you say so. Come to me on your break then.” It’s a thing they have, but not a reason why he got the job. Jason is a good boss, never late with money, always taking into account his employees’ personal lives, and generally not a douchebag. He also knows how to deal with people who try to fuck him over, Mickey respects that. They get along pretty well too, they probably are friends if they ever bothered to label it. They also fuck rather vigorously, so term friends with benefits may fit even better. They’re not exclusive, there is no jealousy involved, it’s a very straightforward arrangement which Mickey appreciates more than he will ever admit. Also Jason actually likes him, and that’s a surprising, albeit pleasant, novelty.  
It’s quite funny, but Jason really has a type, and he really likes small, angry, preferably dark-haired guys. Thugs. Mickey was quite amazed by how many gays found this kind of thing hot because, frankly speaking, hot would be the last thing he would say about himself. But Mickey never understood the big deal about having a type. He was good to go if the guy wasn’t completely hideous and had a huge dick. Types were for fairies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Mickey is gay, huh?

Ian and Mandy go to a gay bar.  
Or – Mandy takes him to a gay bar for some fruity drinks and a random hook-up to celebrate their friendship, though Ian isn’t sure how he feels about the second part or how fun it’s going to be for Mandy, who isn’t gay after all. She takes him to a club which is a bit further away from their regular spots, not so close to the flat. It looks quite fancy, but they checked the website and prices are surprisingly low for New York. It’s a gay bar, but it’s not tacky or in bad taste. There still are guys covered in glitter, wearing far too little, but Ian has seen so much worse when he worked in one.  
They’re moving towards the bar when Mandy squeals. He tries to see what makes her react like that, and he almost squeals himself when he sees a guy who looks almost exactly like Mickey leave the bar and disappear in the back. They look at each other and quickly sit in front of the bar to do some grilling. Ian decides against beating around the bush and starts talking as soon as they receive their drinks.  
“So where is Mickey?” he figures that if the older man really is working at this place the bartender will know his name and react to it accordingly. He is right.  
“You just missed him, went on his break. Bet he will come back even more tired,” the guy chuckles quietly.  
“And why is that?”  
“I always feel tired after sex, and from what I’ve heard boss and him go at it real hard.” Mandy doesn’t say anything, but Ian feels her shift next to him. He can understand that, he is equally confused.  
“Huh,” is all he manages to say. Thankfully, there aren’t many people there and the bartender is chatty.  
“I honest to God thought boss finally decided to cater to some of the prissy queens’ squad and got them some fresh, straight meat when Mickey first came in. Some of them get off on corrupting straight dudes, but nope. Caught him with his dick being sucked by one of the dancers just few days in. Good thing I didn’t bet anything, his tats and the attitude would sure as hell make me lose. He broke my gaydar,” the guy complains, trying to look miserable. “He gets laid more than I do, that’s tragic. Probably because of his bubble butt, it does look awesome in our work pants.”  
He has to leave them then, because some guys need refills, and they sit there without talking until Mickey comes back from his break. He doesn’t notice them at first, but the moment he does, his eyes open comically wide, and he takes a step back as if he wants to run away. He doesn’t, but his body goes all tense when he approaches them. Ian has to admit he does look good in skintight black pants and a glittering vest.  
“I would be okay with this. All of this. You working here, being gay,” Mandy sounds betrayed. She doesn’t seem angry, just sad. But Ian knows her, the anger will come later.  
They leave without finishing their drinks and without getting laid. 

Mandy stays up and so does Ian, even though it’s not really his fight or his place to say anything. He wants to support his best friend, but he can’t deny being curious. They’re almost asleep when Mickey comes in, smelling of cigarettes and alcohol.  
“Don’t you dare,” is Mandy’s only reaction when her brother tries to go to his room without acknowledging them.  
“The fuck do you want?”  
“Why didn’t you tell me, you dick?! Ian is as gay as they get, and I definitely don’t have a problem with that!” Ian cringes when she mentions his name, he doesn’t like to be anyone’s argument.  
“It’s none of your business, Mands,” Mickey avoids looking at them. He looks far more exhausted than Ian’s ever seen him before, he was fine before, in the morning.  
“I’m your family!”  
“Maybe I didn’t want my family to know.”  
“But you’re fine with random dudes knowing?!”  
“How else am I going to get them to suck my dick?” Ian almost smirks at that, but he knows it’s a bad idea with Mandy fuming next to him. She throws a magazine at Mickey, aiming for head, but he catches it easily.  
“I…”  
“It’s not about you! Stop making it about you!” Mickey finally snaps, shouting back. “Family means shit-all to me! It’s my own fucking business!”  
“I thought we were close, it’s not my fault that our dad is fucked up! You’re safe here!” Mandy blinks rapidly, and Ian can tell that she is on the verge of crying, but Mickey just storms out and comes back with a thick envelope with a police stamp on it.  
“Maybe it’s not, but I have no desire to get fag bashed again. You have no idea how bad it was when Terry found out. You know who picked me up from a street? Fucking police did, and they never came when someone called them to our house. I was half dead, barely managed to run away from him, crawling on my fucking hands and knees to get away from that cursed house,” he rips the envelope open and throws pictures in Mandy’s face.  
“Look at the fucking picture, Mands. Look how pretty I was!” They both look, driven by morbid curiosity. Ian has been in many fights in his short life, but he throws up in his mouth a bit when he sees the damage done to Mickey’s body. In pictures, he is covered in blood with one eye swollen shut, lips beaten almost to a pulp, broken nose and badly split eyebrow. And that’s just his face. His whole body is a discolored mess.  
“I pissed blood for a week, had three broken ribs, sprained wrist and bruises so deep they lasted for months. I was scared, Mands, so fucking scared that I stole my file after they took photos and patched me up, and ran away from the fucking police without pressing charges. And then I ran away from Chicago before I was ready, before I had enough money, just to get away. He would kill me. He will, if he sees me again. Don’t tell me it’s alright, that it’s easy, because you can’t fucking know! You didn’t have to live with Terry,” the last part is almost whispered, fight almost visibly leaving Mickey’s body. Instead of going to his room the dark haired man grabs his jacket and leaves the flat. They’re too shell-shocked to react. 

“I understand, you know,” it’s not Ian’s business, but he still wants to talk to Mickey about it. He had to wait until morning, that’s when the older man finally came home.  
“Do you? From what I heard your family doesn’t care about your sexuality.”  
“Yeah, but… I spent enough time in Southside to know how awful it could be. Mandy has this unrealistic view of life sometimes. She is also nosy.” The older man gives him a small smile then, and Ian melts a bit. He is used to seeing Mickey grumpy, annoyed and scowling at everything that moves, but smiling Mickey is a rare, glorious sight.  
“She’ll get over it soon. You know what may help?”  
“Hmm?”  
“A party!” A scowl is back, but Ian won’t be easily discouraged.  
“I made some friends, and Mandy wanted to meet all of them for a while now, so maybe they could come to our place? Hang out a bit. They’re mostly gay, so the atmosphere will be easy.”  
“No need to suck up to me with your pity just because you want to throw a fucking party, douchebag. Whatever, you can have a party, I’ll go somewhere else.”  
“No! You have to stay, have fun, mingle. There is this one guy, he takes amazing photos, you’ll like him!” Ian tries to sound enthusiastic, but he has to admit that his timing sucks big time. Now Mickey thinks he is a selfish asshole.

***

As expected, Mickey sucks at mingling.  
This is the gayest thing he’s ever seen, and he works in a bloody gay bar. Not to mention that he sleeps with men. Ian’s friends are preppy hipsters who try to look fancy and intelligent while trolling for ass. He fits about as well as he would in a choir, but everyone else, Mandy included, seems to be having fun. He is sipping on a beer which probably was really expensive, and hates it more than the cheapest brands. It’s not even about the taste. Maybe it’s his punishment for hiding for so long, Mandy’s cunning plan to make him suffer, and regret that he is gay.  
He is given looks, of course he is given looks, and for the first time since he moved here, he feels like a stranger in his own flat, like he doesn’t belong. Which he doesn’t, but the point is that it’s his fucking flat. This is bullshit, Gallagher said it was going to be fun, but it’s painfully awkward. He can’t even hide in his room, there is no way he will show these assholes any sign of weakness. Some of them tried talking to him, pretending to be interested in him as a person, but he knows better, he’s seen it before. They want to fuck him, to gloat later about how they managed to score a rough guy, a thug who willingly spread his legs for them. One of them looks kind of hot, and it seems that he packs some serious meat in his pants, but there is no way Mickey will screw any of them.  
Ian is laughing as some idiot’s joke, and Mandy is swapping stories with a dude wearing more make up than she is. Yeah, they’re having fun. He doesn’t need any more proof that he doesn’t fit. Truth is, the only place he ever truly fit was Southside before it turned out he is gay. There isn’t much more to him. Ian should leave his flirting for other students and clever, rich guys.  
He leaves even before he makes a decision to go to Jason’s house. Jason has a guy over and it could be awkward, only the guy smirks at him and offers a threesome. Well, Ian made him try a pseudo-posh party, so maybe it’s time for another new thing, more pleasant and far more comfortable.

Comfortable isn’t the word that comes to his mind in the morning, but he can’t find it in himself to regret the night. His ass hurts quite a lot, and he has to avoid sitting on his way back. It’s almost noon when he reaches the flat, the only people inside are Ian and Mandy, chatting amicably in the kitchen, the flat already cleaned.  
He eats his breakfast standing up, and Ian looks at him with obvious curiosity, his eyes moving all over Mickey’s body, making longer stops at his crotch and hips. Older man gives him a finger and tries not to limp too much on his way to the bathroom.  
“Where did you disappear?” Ian asks through the closed door, as if it is perfectly normal to talk with someone who is in a fucking bathroom taking piss or worse.  
“Out.”  
“Why?”  
Mickey snorts, not caring that it’s rude.  
“If I stayed any longer I would smash someone’s face.”  
“So you didn’t enjoy it?”  
“Damn right I didn’t enjoy that shit,” Mickey decides to ignore Ian’s hurt, barely audible ‘oh’.

***

Ian is disappointed. He thought everything was going fine during the party. There was free alcohol for Mickey to enjoy, some snacks and hot men. He wasn’t even involved in preparations. Mandy’s been worried that her brother would start a fight, but Mickey behaved really well when someone tried to engage him. Admittedly, that could be the first sign that something was wrong. Ian just really wanted Mickey to meet new people, he seemed lonely.  
“Hey, so, this hot thug is living with you, right?” Ian snaps out of his thoughts, remembering that he is in a café near his Uni, enjoying break between classes with his friends.  
“Mickey? Yes, he is Mandy’s brother.”  
“You wouldn’t mind if I visited? I want to hook up with him.”  
“I doubt he’d like that, it didn’t seem to go well during the party?”  
“Yeah, right. He just got spooked, you know, after seeing so much class and money around him. Besides, he totally checked me out.” This part is believable, Ethan is a very attractive guy in a traditional way.  
“I don’t think that’s it.”  
“I can’t wait to stick it in him, his tight, thuggish ass won’t know what hit him. Gonna do him so hard,” Ethan ignores his comment, not used to be contradicted.  
“His name is Mickey,” Ian tries again, more annoyed than he’d like to admit.  
“Whatever, it’s not his name I’m interested in.”  
Everyone laughs as if it is a great joke, and suddenly Ian realizes that Ethan is a complete jackass. Under all that expensive clothing is a conceited asshole with no regard for people he considers worse than him.  
Maybe he also doesn’t fit as well as he wants to believe he does. He likes his friends, they are nice to him, most of the time, but it’s difficult to ignore the way they treat others. Fiona would bite his head off if she knew his new friends always humiliate waiters and make fun of poor people. Ian is not really rich, but his friends either don’t want to acknowledge it or they genuinely think that he shares a flat with two other people because living alone could get lonely. He definitely isn’t going to enlighten them on the matter. He isn’t ashamed, it’s not that, at least that’s what he tells himself.  
They are his only friends, he knows some people through Mandy, but these guys are his, and he isn’t willing to let them go because of Mickey. It’s not that bad, right?

***

Jason the Boss is over, and Ian can’t pretend he isn’t curious. He is way too curious. Mickey appeared in his fantasies even before he discovered older man’s preferences, but that’s only natural. Who wouldn’t wank to that body. It’s different now that he knows, because what used to be a fantasy can, in theory, become truth. Ian doesn’t necessarily think that two gay guys living together must mean fucking, but he likes sex, and he wouldn’t be opposed to doing it with Mickey. There is something fascinating about the small, angry man.  
Since eavesdropping satisfies his curiosity only partially, he quietly opens the door to Mickey’s room, and the sight that greets him is something he can honestly say he never imagined. His brain can come up with many kinky ideas, but thinking about Mickey Milkovich kneeling in front of a guy with spunk covering his face is too much to handle.  
But that’s exactly what he sees, Mickey is looking up at his boss, smirking despite streaks of cum covering his cheeks and lips. Even like this, he looks prouder than any other man Ian has ever met. When Mickey licks his lips, still smiling when he tastes Jason’s cum, Ian’s brain shot-circuits, freezing him in the place for a few seconds.  
As he closes the door, he knows that from now on his dreams and fantasies will be filled with Mickey fucking Milkovich.

The next morning is awkward for him. The world goes on as if nothing happened, but Ian didn’t get the memo and is fidgety during breakfast, looking at Mickey’s face way too often. Thankfully his flatmate is too busy with his pop tarts to notice. It’s all fine until it isn’t, and Ian’s mouth opens, seemingly on its own accord.  
“How old is Jason?” At least it isn’t one of the more disgusting questions that have been plaguing him since yesterday, like ‘do you like the taste of cum’ or ‘can I shoot all over your face, please? You seemed to enjoy it.’  
“Thirty, why?”  
“I didn’t know you liked older guys.”  
“Fuck off, he is like nine years older, unlike some of the hundred years old geriatric viagroids you bring over.”  
“True, but they’re good,” they aren’t that old, but Mickey is in a good mood, and Ian isn’t going to fight over something so irrelevant.  
“Yeah, good business,” Mandy chips in. She still isn’t really talking to her brother and avoids looking at him, but apparently some things are worth breaking the silence. Ian should have never told her about Ned.  
“Meaning?” of, fucking, course Mickey is interested.  
“Meaning one of Ian’s sugar daddies, I mean, boyfriends, paid for his college.”  
“Not all of it.”  
“Most of it. It’s like prostitution, isn’t it?”  
“I never asked him to do it, he offered.” Mandy can be such a bitch sometimes.  
“Because he wanted your young ass to stay with him.” Ian doesn’t feel remorse when he thinks about Ned, but when Mandy acts like that he gets a bit self-conscious about his choices.  
“Whatever, at least my sister doesn’t have to work so much to help me with bills.” It’s a low blow, and he regrets it almost immediately after words leave his mouth. It doesn’t help that it’s true, they both know that Mickey works in a bar to be able to help Mandy, even if her mother also sends money. College is fucking expensive.  
He can almost see Mandy’s hackles rising, she is ready to pounce, but Mickey steps in.  
“He is right. Even if it’s prostitution, so what? At least he got a sweet deal out of it. But I don’t mind helping you, Mands. You deserve it.” Ian isn’t smart enough to find words that would describe Mickey’s face when he looks at his sister, but there is softness in his eyes that Ian’s never seen before. Mandy smiles at him, and it doesn’t need to be said that Mickey’s is forgiven.

***

He doesn’t know what drives him. He tells himself he isn’t even that interested. Sure, he always thinks of sex when he sees a hot piece of ass, but Mickey is rough and dangerous, Mickey looks like he wouldn’t hesitate before beating him unconscious, and he’s had enough of this when he was fifteen.  
All the same, he waits until he is alone at home and breaks into the older man’s room. Mickey always locks it before going out, but Ian knows a thing or two about picking locks. He keeps his own room locked as well, mostly because this is where he keeps his pills, and he wonders what Mickey’s reasons are. It could be that Mickey is just secretive, but Ian has a hunch. It’s messy inside, but not dirty. Ian sniffs and is surprised how nice the room smells, fresher than his own.  
He soon discovers that mess comes mostly from clothes, Mickey doesn’t own a lot of stuff. There is a baseball bat under the bed, it looks old and well used, if it’s something you can say about a bat. There are small cracks and splinters on it, and the lacquer is peeling off in some spots. There is also a gun, Ian’s fingers shake a bit when he touches the cold metal, wondering.  
Then he finds normal things like condoms and an impressive amount of lube, a magazine, few books, a mostly empty notebook.  
He swears loudly when he opens the last drawer. It’s full of sex toys in various shapes and sizes. There are few vibrators, dildos, handcuffs and anal beads. Beads look threatening, even the smallest ones seem too big, like they would hurt a lot. It’s probably because he’s never been into ass play, at least not when his ass is concerned. But apparently Mickey is, and Ian thinks that he could be persuaded to bottom for him, if that’s what Mickey likes.

It turns out he was, yet again, wrong.  
He may be, sort of, kind of, spying on Mickey while older man is having sex. Regularly. Even he can admit that it’s the creepiest thing he’s ever done in his life, and he’s done a lot of stupid shit, snooping around his flatmate’s room included. Mickey would end him if he knew, but it doesn’t stop Ian from coming back for more. At first it’s just him listening by the door, too scared to open it again. He stands by the door almost, but not quite, glued to it, always ready to bolt in case Mandy leaves her room. But one day it’s just Ian, Mickey and some random fuck he brought home, so Ian chances it, opens the door, just a small, harmless gap. He thought that Mickey with cum all over his face was hot, but this… This is wholly unexpected and glorious.  
His flatmate is on all fours, ass in the air. The other guy slowly and seemingly gently pushes beads into Mickey’s ass, one by one, running one hand over his flanks, trying to soothe him a bit. The dark haired man is shivering, his voice unsteady when he asks for more.  
Mickey Milkovich is a bottom, and Ian dies a little bit before he reaches his room to fuck into his own fist.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandy's mom makes appearance. And Lip, which makes Ian insanely jealous.
> 
> Kudos and comments make me a happy dragon?

Sometimes Ian is a walking cliché, and that’s probably how he managed to get a job as a barista in a small coffee shop. The owner almost squealed when she saw him, and he wasn’t above using his good looks to get what he wanted. The place is a little bit pretentious, looks like it’s trying too hard to be unique, but the coffee is good, and he earns enough not only to survive, but also buy nice things from time to time. He can’t complain.  
It’s close enough to the college that Mandy comes over to hang out with him. She says it’s for him, but he is pretty sure she just enjoys the view. Which, he has to admit, is good, so they usually spend his break chatting about handsome guys buying slightly overpriced coffee. It’s also his hunting ground. This is where he finds his boyfriends which also results in coffee shop losing some of its customers, but his boss will never know.   
Ian enjoys having a boyfriend, although in his case calling them boyfriends is very generous. It’s nice to have someone you can make out with in a dark cinema, hold hands on a street, and do other couple-stuff. The problem is he finds it difficult to stay faithful. He used to blame it on his illness, but his meds work really well most of the time, so it’s not even a real excuse anymore. He doesn’t know where it comes from. One second he is happy and satisfied, and next he is fucking some random dude in a dirty bathroom stall, even though he could go to his boyfriend and have sex in a nice, comfy flat.   
He cheats on them, there is huge fallout, he mopes for a while and gets another boyfriend. He goes through them quicker than Mandy, who finds the whole thing awfully amusing. Mickey, on the other hand, seems rather disgusted. It might have something to do with the fact that one of his exes turned up at their flat to argue with Ian and went absolutely batshit crazy when he spotted Mickey. He assumed too much, and Mickey had to kick him out after smacking him around a bit. It was pretty impressive, the older man could pack a solid punch even when he wasn’t really pulling his weight. Ian, of course, because he is fucked in the head, found it hot and got a hard on. He is almost 100% sure Mandy noticed, but hasn’t said anything.

***

Christmas is bullshit, even more so when he is forced to take few days off because he’s been working Christmas shifts previous years, and apparently that qualifies him for a break this time. Jason knows he dislikes holidays, but he also thinks he knows what is good for Mickey.  
It’s a great coincidence that Svetlana decides to call him a week before the break. It may not be a coincidence at all, but it doesn’t matter. Both Gallagher and Mandy are going back to Chicago, to celebrate with their families, so he will have a flat to himself. Maybe he will survive with the help of some booze, weed and a guy or two to keep him company. As much as he likes having his sister around, it will take more time to get used to having someone around. Living alone for two years spoiled him. His brothers would probably have a good laugh at that.

Mickey has a guest over, and it’s not one of his guy-guests, he takes those to his room. It’s a woman instead, in a glittery dress and heavily pregnant. She is kind of beautiful, not that Ian is the best judge of female beauty. Her cheekbones and eyes are sharp, and he instantly knows she is not to be fucked with.   
“Who is that, Mick?” Mandy asks sounding as lost as Ian feels. At least it isn’t something he missed.  
“Svetlana,” Mickey answers simply, foreign name easily rolling off his tongue.   
“His best friend,” the woman adds. She has a pretty heavy, Russian sounding accent. For some reason Mandy shoots her an ugly look then. He will never understand the hostility with which girls usually treat each other when they meet for the first time. He thinks they should stick together, the girls against the rest of the fucked up, masculine world.  
“I thought Jason was your best friend?”  
“He is a guy fuck friend,” Svetlana explains, unmoved.   
“Yeah, Lana and I go way back. We met in Chicago.”  
“How come we’ve never met her then?”  
“I moved here two weeks ago.”  
“Yeah? But he’s never mentioned you before,” Mandy is trying hard to antagonize Svetlana. Ian is quite sure that you should never anger Russians, even if they’re heavily pregnant.  
“He also didn’t tell you when he was in juvie.”  
“He did!”  
“After he came out,” Svetlana snickers, probably thinking about the same thing as Ian.   
“How did you two meet?” he asks, not waiting for Mandy to try and offend Mickey’s friend again. Mickey looks a bit sick, already opens mouth to say something, but Svetlana beats him to it.  
“I raped him.”  
“Jesus, Lana, who taught you that word?”  
“Nika. Thinks I should know it.”  
“It wasn’t rape.”  
“It was. Terry beat you up, threaten with a gun, made you fuck me. Rape.”  
It is rape, and it makes Ian sick. He is sure both of them are victims in this, but he’s never expected Mickey, of all people, to be forced into a situation like that. There is a name for it, isn’t there? Corrective rape. He vaguely remembers being told about it by one of his friends in Chicago, but the concept was so foreign that he dismissed the whole idea.   
“You raped him and how you’re friends? How old was he?” Mandy is trying hard to wrap her head around it and coming out mostly confused.   
“Sixteen. I got pregnant, Terry wanted us to marry. Got rid of the problem, Mick got money for that. Friends after that.”  
“Jesus, Svetlana. Terry caught me being sucked off by a friend. Because I wasn’t the one kneeling, he beat the shit out of us and got Lana to fuck the faggot out of me. He had a gun, so it’s not like we had a choice. Lana got pregnant, and he started planning a fucking wedding, but Lana decided to save my ass and get rid of it,” Mickey decides to explain, not exactly making it sound any better. That’s some heavy shit to bond over, but then again it might be the reason why they’re good friends.  
“You’re a whore? And you got rid of his baby?”  
“Was. I’m a waitress now. Not a baby, a fetus. That’s,” Svetlana points at her bulging stomach, “a baby. One month is fetus. No need to ruin Rainbow Boy’s life any more.” Mickey smiles at her the way he smiles at Mandy, and both of them can see that. Ian isn’t alone in his jealousy, though their reasons are much different.  
“Will you come back with me to Chicago for Christmas?” Mandy suddenly asks, taking everyone by surprise.  
“He spend it with me and Nika, he isn’t coming back to Chicago,” Svetlana answers casually, like it’s perfectly normal for her to do so.  
“I think it’s his decision…”  
“I am spending it with Lana and her girlfriend. She actually came to invite me. She’s right, I’m never going back to Chicago again.”  
“Unless it’s with Orange Boy?” Svetlana looks slyly at Mickey. It takes Ian a while to understand she means him. “He is cute.”  
“Nah, not fucking that.” Mickey and Svetlana start talking after that, ignoring other two people. It’s awkward, so Ian quietly retreats to his room. He thinks Mandy will join him, but she goes to her room instead. She seems unwell.  
Ian feels it too, torn between pitying Mickey and, for some reason, being angry at him.

***

It’s a pretty regular Christmas at the Gallagher house. It’s loud and well, merry. It’s also more than enough family interaction for Ian, and when he flies back to New York he can’t help but be relieved. Lip is with him, going for some conference that will make him look good in front of his professors, but it’s clear that he mostly cares about having fun in NY. He is staying with his friend, which makes Ian happy, he hates sharing room with his brother. Any of his brothers.  
When he finally gets home he discovers that Mandy also has a guest, only hers is going to stay with them for a week. Even before she introduces her guest Ian knows who that is. There is no mistaking it, the woman has long, black hair and bright, blue eyes. Mickey is almost the exact copy of his mom, despite being a girl even Mandy doesn’t look so much like her. Natalia has an accent, not as strong as Svetlana, but it’s still there. Ian would say it’s Russian because he can only recognize French and Russian accents on his own, but Mandy told him once that their family comes from Ukraine. If he ever mentions Russia her mom will probably cut him.  
It’s going to be a huge mess.  
It’s clear that Mandy talked about him, and Ian feels conflicted because Natalia seems nice. At the same time he keeps thinking about the fact that she’s left Mickey with the monster, and even if it’s not his mistake to forgive, it still makes his heart ache. Apparently not only his because when Mickey comes home Ian can for a split second see raw pain painted on his face, before he schools his face into a mask of perfect indifference. His cheeks are red from cold, but he still looks sickly pale. Natalia’s smile drops, and she turns to Mandy.  
“You haven’t told me he lives with you?”  
“Actually, we live with him. He’s been there for three years when we moved in,” Ian decides to butt in, angry on Mickey’s behalf.  
“But… you are gay, no? And he is Terry’s son.”  
“I’m not Terry. I don’t have a father,” Mickey spits out.  
“How can you afford it?”  
“He is a really good mechanic, and also works the bar part time. He earns more than both of us together,” Ian says with a laugh, ignoring Mickey’s glare. Then he pours the other man a cup of coffee. It’s late, but no one is going to fall asleep anytime soon.  
“That’s… unexpected.”  
“Yeah, like you would know,” Mickey laughs mirthlessly, “Mandy is my only family, so you can fuck off, I don’t want you anymore. Stay the fuck out of my room and don’t talk to me.”  
Mickey doesn’t storm out like Ian expects him to. He walks out with his back straight, even if Ian can see his hands shake.

An hour later Ian invites Mickey to his room, tempting him with beer and high quality weed. They get high in silence, Ian has only one beer since alcohol doesn’t mix well with his meds. He is not sure what makes him want to tell Mickey about his life. It could be weed, but he knows his control is better than that. Maybe it’s because he desperately wants Mickey to be his something, anything. Be it a friend, or something else. Or maybe it’s because Mickey understands what it’s like not to be thought of as a person. For a long time people, mostly Ian’s family, looked at him and all they saw was his disorder.   
And Mickey, in the eyes of others, is never his own person. For his own mother he is just a Milkovich. For his father he is a dirty faggot. For Ethan and his friends – a hot, mindless thug. And when Ian talked to Fiona about him, she referred to him as “Terry’s kid”. He is not Mickey to them. They are both defined by things that they’d rather not think about. And in Ian’s head it makes them close. His brain to mouth filter shuts down completely, but the older man doesn’t stop him. He keeps on smoking, but it’s obvious he is listening.  
Ian talks.  
He talks about his always drunk father who isn’t really his father, bipolar mother he can’t help but love even though she hurt him so much, about his siblings, about string of older guys he fucked to feel wanted. He talks about ROTC, about army dreams that are gone, about his family’s acceptance when he came out. He talks about his first manic episode when he felt so high, at the top of the world, working as a dancer in a gay club despite being a minor. About all the guys he fucked while so coked up he could barely stand, but he was so horny all the time. He bitterly tells Mickey how his family suddenly stopped seeing him, how all they would talk to him about was drugs, therapy, how stifling it was. He even tells him about first meds he’s got, how he couldn’t get it up no matter how hard he tried. He mentions suicidal thoughts he’s had before the doctors finally managed to adjust his dosage properly. It’s embarrassing and cleansing at the same time. Mandy knows some of it, but not all.  
And then he tells Mickey about good things that followed. About working things out with his family, getting GED, getting into Uni, finally feeling like he is worth something. Maybe he wants to give Mickey hope, show him that life can get better, even if the other man believes that getting out of Chicago was, and always will be, his biggest achievement. His mouth feels dry by the time he is finished, and they sit in silence again for a while.   
That is until his high persuades it’s a perfect moment to make his move, so he kisses Mickey, not bothering with going slow. His tongue feels at home in Mickey’s mouth, his hand already massaging older man’s dick through the pants.  
Mickey pushes him away, his face blank.  
“We’re not doing this, so get it out of your head.”  
“Please, you’re amazing,” Ian all but whines, inhibitions gone.  
“Let’s not make things fucking awkward, alright? You have no problems with finding ass to fuck, and I know how you treat them, so just stick to that.”  
Mickey grabs his beer and leaves the room, not waiting for Ian to say anything.

***

It’s not… weird or even awkward. It might be Natalia’s fault, maybe Mickey simply doesn’t have enough strength to deal with both her and Ian’s shit, but everything is fine. Ian even manages to introduce Lip to him which is amusing. Lip seems slightly intimidated while trying hard not to be. But they end up getting along alright, even if Mickey tells him later that his brother is an asshole. Pretty rich coming from him, but whatever.  
This is what lulls him into a false sense of security (he was always quite dramatic).  
The week Natalia spends in New York, Mickey is out a lot, probably hanging out with Svetlana or Jason. Ian fucks a guy, but only one, and it doesn’t feel as good as it should. The guy is hot and a decent lay, but it does almost nothing for Ian, and he has to think of something, someone else to come. The week after Natalia leaves is better, though he sees Lip more often then he is used to. They don’t really talk since Lip is usually leaving when Ian comes home, and Ian isn’t comfortable with the idea of talking to Mandy about his brother, so he can only guess whether they’re dating or not. He assumes they are pretty casual, hopes Mandy is smarter than that. He tries dropping a hint or two, out of curiosity, but Mandy just glares at him.  
On Saturday he tries clubbing with Mandy, and succeeds only partially. His friend is having fun, so that’s good, but he’s had two drinks and already feels dizzy, his meds making him a real lightweight. He leaves when Mandy finds her friends, and goes straight home. It’s not even midnight yet, maybe Mickey will be up for a round of shooting Nazis or zombies, or anything else.  
Mickey is definitely up for something, but it can’t be gaming judging from the way he is slowly grinding down on Lip’s cock, riding him on their couch like a professional whore. Ian just gapes at them because this is simply ridiculous, since when Mandy and Mickey have a habit of sharing guys they fuck? Mickey lets out a loud gasp, and Ian internally berates himself for being dumb. They aren’t sharing, Lip’s been coming over to fuck Mickey, not his sister. Lip isn’t even gay, at least he’s never said anything about being attracted to guys before. But he is really into it, judging from the way he is moaning Mickey’s name between kissing the black haired man and licking his flawless skin.  
And Mickey, who is so stand-offish most of the time, looks so blissful with cheeks tinged pink, slightly bowed to be able to kiss Lip. His moves are so smooth, every time he presses down it looks so graceful, like he was born to ride cock. It’s obvious that he loves it too, there is a small smile gracing his lips when he isn’t groaning or whimpering.  
They’re so into it that they still haven’t noticed him, and he wants to rip Mickey off Lip’s dick and beat up his brother. Instead, he asks ‘what the fuck?’, finally getting their attention.  
“Oh Christ,” that’s Lip, whose hands are still tightly gripping Mickey’s hips.  
“What the fuck are you..? Why? Jesus,” Ian panics.  
“Do you mind?” Mickey sounds calm, if a bit breathless.  
“It’s our couch. Why are you… No, I don’t even want to know.”  
He forces himself to stop looking at Mickey’s naked, flushed body and his pretty cock, and goes to his room, almost breaking the door.

Lip comes to him later, and it’s not like Ian can blame him, but it’s too much for him to handle. His brother still smells like Mickey, and usually it’s a good smell, but not this time, not on another man. Not on his own brother.  
“You’re now fucking dating or what?” he sneers.  
“We do the `fucking` bit,” like it’s any better.  
“I thought you were coming to see Mandy, I was almost happy for you.”  
“What’s your problem exactly?”  
“You’re not gay. And he is my fucking flatmate.”  
“You can’t give me shit for being bi,” Lip watches him carefully, and Ian can see the exact moment the comprehension dawns on him. “You wanted to fuck him. He didn’t?”  
“I want to something him, alright, and now you spoiled it.”  
“The hell I did. He is hot and a great lay, I’m not going to apologize for sleeping with him.”  
“Get the fuck out.”  
“Ian, it’s not serious…”  
“Out!” He isn’t even angry at Lip, maybe a little bit. His anger is mostly directed at Mickey, who has guts to fuck his brother right under his nose. He manages to wait half an hour before storming into the older man’s room.  
“Why would you do that?!” Mickey blinks at him, half-asleep.   
“The fuck Gallagher..?”  
“Why did you let Lip fuck you?”  
“Because I wanted to, Jesus. I can do whatever I want.”  
“Not with my brother.”  
“Don’t get all protective. We were just fucking, no need to make a drama out of it.”  
“You won’t let me fuck you.”  
“I’m not fucking my flatmate. And I don’t owe you anything, do I?” Mickey looks at him with one eyebrow raised, mocking him. Ian realizes that it’s not going to lead anywhere. There won’t be a big shouting match because Mickey can’t even see anything wrong in what he’s done, or he is too stubborn to admit that it was a bad thing to do. There also won’t be any fight-fuelled fucking since Mickey seems quite adamant about not letting Ian’s dick anywhere near his ass, and Ian isn’t sure he’d be willing to do it after Lip’s cock has been in Mickey not even an hour ago. He spends the night fuming in his room, coming up with different ways he could get his revenge, and then masturbating to the image of Mickey stuffed full of his cock.  
When they see each other next day Ian isn’t even trying not to be rude. Finally Mandy calls him out on it, in return he tells her all about his discovery, his eyes never leaving Mickey’s face. He hopes for a reaction, but he only gets a shrug which pisses him off even more. Mandy is shocked, but only because she thought that Lip was straight. Then she just mutters ‘good for you’ to Mickey, and tells Ian to get over it.   
He brings a guy home that night. The guy is generic looking, but let’s Ian fuck him into mattress and doesn’t mind being kicked out afterwards. It still feels like a defeat because Mickey doesn’t even notice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dub-con in this chapter. It's not really explicit, but still.

Gallagher is still acting funny around him, trying to goad him into action, and Mickey is tired of this. He doesn’t deserve the shit that the redhead is throwing at him.   
He decides to take Mandy out because they haven’t done anything like that in a while, and he kind of misses it (he also needs to get out of the flat, or he will cut Gallagher’s face). Back in Chicago they would mostly call, meeting maybe four or five times a year. He didn’t want to drag her back to the Southside, but he felt uneasy at her side of town. Now that they can actually go out, they don’t – too busy with their lives. Well, his sister is busy with her life, he just works during the week and sleeps during the weekend. It’s still better than whatever Chicago had to offer.   
They go to the restaurant, not some dingy diner, and Mandy looks happy to be there with him. She tells him about her friends, who he doesn’t give half a shit about, but he doesn’t want to burst her bubble. He also lets her order too much food, simply because he can, and it feels good.   
“I think I may fail one class,” Mandy suddenly says when their food arrives, staring at her plate.  
“Yeah? Why?” he is aiming for casual, not sure whether he succeeds or not. He isn’t bothered by her admission, but he can tell that it’s something that she is embarrassed about, she is fiddling with her hair which she always does when she doesn’t know what to do with hands.  
“I… I fucked up with this one. I thought it will be easier since I really like the subject, and I didn’t try hard enough.” Mickey likes it that his sister doesn’t try to lie to him or blame someone else. She has balls to admit that she might have made a mistake, he respects that.   
“I don’t want mom to know. But I can’t afford…” she continues, nervously moving to the napkin to rip it into small pieces.  
“It’s cool, I’ll cover it if you really fail, no need to tell her.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Nah, don’t worry. You’re doing good, you’ll be the first educated Milkovich, you’re allowed to fuck up from time to time.”   
Mandy lets out a relieved laugh, her eyes slightly wet.  
“Eat your fucking food,” he knows he sounds harsh, but that’s what she needs right now. They eat in silence, and Mandy speaks again when they get their desserts.   
“She wanted me to change my last name, you know. She doesn’t want me to be a Milkovich.” He doesn’t need to ask who, there is only one person that would care. And this time, he can’t blame her. Why would anyone want to be one of them? Nothing good ever comes from being a Milkovich. He would call it a curse, if he believed in such things. He voices his question, eyebrows raised high and unimpressed.   
“I left you once, I’m never leaving you again.”  
“You’re so fucking soppy right now, I can’t even deal with you.”  
“Ha ha, fucker. It’s true though, you’ll never get rid of me.”  
“Fucking skank,” he mutters into his fork.  
“Douchebag. Oh, I told her you got your GED, right? I regret not taking a photo of her face, she stood there with her mouth opening and closing, looking like a fish,” and okay, that’s pretty amusing to imagine, so they start laughing, ignoring curious glances of people sitting around them.  
They leave the restaurant, and Mandy demands ice cream. She gets three scoops, and then moans about her stomach all the way to the flat.   
It’s a good night. 

Mickey doesn’t get into many fights anymore, there is no reason for it. But he keeps in shape, just in case. He goes to the gym three times a week, practices on a punching bag. Fights are few and far between at Jason’s place, but they still happen, and usually he is the first person to react. Other bartenders and dancers think that he has some sort of a complex, it’s better than them knowing that he enjoys getting blood on his knuckles from time to time.  
The dancers are paid well enough that they don’t need to whore themselves out. It’s their own choice if they do (which doesn’t happen often), but there is a strict no touching policy while they are officially working. Once in a while a douchebag with some money tries to put his hands down the tiny shorts, and then Mickey puts him in the right place. Sometimes they fight back, and he ends up with a black eye and a split lip. Like today, when a balding jerk makes a grab for TJ.  
Mickey is kind of ashamed to admit that violence can make him hot, but it doesn’t stop him from getting blood all over Jason’s cock and then his face when they fervently fuck in the office. They do it twice before he is ready to leave, his lip looking worse than it did right after the fight. Mandy calls him a stupid ass when he gets home, but then she fusses over him a bit like an overprotective sister she definitely is not. Gallagher’s eyes are dark when Mickey catches him looking.

Ian decides to change his tactic once he realizes that Mickey doesn’t actually hate him. They probably could even be friends if Ian wasn’t so set on fucking the older man, but he is. The change includes being friendly, which isn’t a hardship because he generally is a friendly guy. He decides to forget about the fact that his brother’s dick has been in the small thug more than once, and glares only when Mickey is exceptionally rude. It makes breathing easier, and if he is lucky – he gets a hint of a smile. He tries to fool himself into thinking that it’s enough, that he can be happy with scraps of attention and get everything else from other guys.   
It’s what he’s been doing for a long time after all.

***

In general Ian loves parties, but as he looks at Mandy dancing with their friends he realizes that today the music and free booze do nothing for him. He is unable to lose himself in the beat. It used to be so simple, but now he just wants to go home and sleep or maybe watch a movie. He wonders if Mickey’s night is any better, the older man went out earlier than they did, but never said where, he still doesn’t tell them much.  
He leaves when the others are too drunk to care. He had a beer and a strong drink which was almost a mistake. He isn’t drunk, but he isn’t sober either, combination of medicine and alcohol making him woozy, thinking is a bit harder than usually. He splurges on a cab, not willing to wait for a night bus.  
A quick shower is in order, so he goes to the bathroom, surprised to see that someone is already in there. The door is wide open, and it seems that Mickey decided to take advantage of the fact that Mandy and Ian were supposed to sleep over after the party, because he isn’t wearing any clothes and currently has three fingers up his ass. He is breathing heavily, holding onto a basin with his free hand. His moans make Ian go from 0 to 100 in just few seconds, he _needs_.  
He approaches Mickey as quietly as he can and grabs man’s hips the second he is in a touching distance. Mickey lets out a small, disoriented `what?`, and Ian can immediately tell that he is very, very drunk. He smells like a brewery, and his eyes have a difficult time focusing on anything. This should be a sign that Ian should stop, but he is blinded by want, so he ignores it, and quickly presses his fingers into Mickey’s opening, alongside the ones that are there already.  
“Gonna fuck you so good,” he promises, rutting against Mickey’s ass.  
“N...no…” it’s pathetic and weak as hell, but it’s still a ‘no’.  
Still, Ian almost carries Mickey to the older man’s room. It’s a short walk, but it takes them almost five minutes because even if Ian is not that drunk, he can still feel the alcohol buzzing in his veins, and the older man is highly uncooperative.  
He fucks Mickey twice. The first time the older man manages to come after Ian blows him, but the second time he is completely limp. Both times Ian blows his load inside the man, something primal in him overjoyed with a chance to mark his territory. He falls asleep snuggled to Mickey.

He wakes up feeling too hot, half lying on Mickey. His brain doesn’t give him a chance to wake up properly, already supplying him with images from the last night. His dick hardens where it rests between pale cheeks, and he grinds against the perfect ass. He mouths at Mickey’s neck and arms without opening eyes.  
“So you don’t understand what ‘no’ means, huh?” Mickey’s voice is low and gravelly.  
“What?”  
“I said ‘no’ yesterday. At least twice. And you not only fucked me, but you also did it without a fucking condom.”  
“Shut up.”  
“No, seriously, let’s talk. You love talking after all. Are you in a habit of shoving your dick where it’s not wanted?”  
Ian feels dread then. Because obviously, Mickey is right. That’s exactly what he did, he forced himself on a drunk man who said ‘no’ during, and even before, the act. If something like that happened to one of his siblings he’d probably murder the guy responsible for it. And suddenly he is that guy, it makes him feel hollow. Fiona would be so disappointed, he is disappointed, even more so because it felt so good that he’d probably do it again, given the chance.  
“I thought… I see they way you look at me sometimes, and you said it’s because we’re flatmates, not because you don’t want me. But that’s just excuses, isn’t it? I… Are you going to call the police?” Mickey finally looks at him, Ian can feel him shake and it takes him a second to understand that the older man is laughing.  
“Yeah, and they would do what exactly? We live in the same flat, and we are gay. They’d say I wanted it. Besides, no Milkovich will ever call the police for something like that. I ain’t a snitch.”  
“Are you going to beat me up then?” Ian could live with that, he doesn’t want it, but he could accept it as a form of punishment.   
“Nice idea, but no. You can get on me.”  
“W…what?”  
“Your dick has been poking me since I woke up. Its determination is admirable. Wrap it up and fuck me.” Ian is not dumb, and if he sees an easy way out – he is going to take it. Even if he’s still confused as hell. He doesn’t want to use a condom, but he has some self-preservation left in him, so he grabs one from the cabinet. It fits him, and that’s how he discovers that Mickey has a type. He goes for lube as well, but he is stopped by the other man.  
“Condom is lubed, and I’m good to go from last time.” Ian’s mouth opens a little, he doesn’t care about looking stupid because holy shit. He slides in, and Mickey obviously isn’t stretched well enough but voices no complain. Ian hesitates until he can feel Mickey move, grinding against him. It’s the last thing he does, but Ian doesn’t mind doing all the work.   
It’s fast and dirty, the older man is grunting and moaning quietly, and it makes Ian fuck into him as hard as he can from this angle. He blows his load before he even manages to think about jacking Mickey off, but he quickly discovers that the other man came shortly before him. He usually lasts longer than that, but Mickey’s ass is perfect.  
“Two things. Mandy can’t know, and it’s not a boyfriend-girlfriend situation.”  
Ian nods eagerly because it means they will keep on fucking. He would probably agree to wear dresses for a year if it would mean regularly fucking his flatmate. 

Mickey wasn’t going to do this, but since Gallagher already fucked him there was no harm in continuing. He is a bit put off by the fact that the redhead ignored his lack of consent, but it’s not like it never happened before, and he did think about fucking Gallagher anyway. Red looks really fucking smug, like he won a prize or something, and it makes Mickey wonder how long it will take before he decides he is bored of it.  
When he was still in a closet, life was both easier and more difficult at the same time. Having to worry about being found out was nerve wracking, but at least he didn’t have to bother with things like emotions. He kept everything bottled up, not allowing anyone to get to him. Embracing his sexuality made him vulnerable, even if it wasn’t something visible to others. His anger and feeling of hopelessness were replaced by longing. He isn’t a pussy, but sometimes he wants more, lies to himself that he can have more. He is as emotionally stunted as ever when it comes to talking to other people, but inside he feels things he doesn’t admit to anyone. Not to Svetlana, not to Jason, not to Mandy.   
Gallagher can be sweet, caring, sexy and persuasive, and he makes it so easy for people to fall for him. He’s seen it before, hell, Mandy is still a bit in love with the guy. But Mickey isn’t going to fall for his tricks because he is a tough motherfucker. He also knows that he will never be good enough. Gallagher cheats on the prettiest, smartest boys with shitload of money, and Mickey has nothing special to offer. Maybe the redhead also, like his friends, wants to fuck a thug, and he will be done with it within a month.

***

The best thing about fucking Mickey is… Well, it’s fucking Mickey, but second best thing is getting to know him. They finally spend time together, not just brushing against each other in the kitchen during meal times. The older man seems more relaxed around him, as if he decided to finally let go. To be honest Ian hasn’t noticed that Mickey has been avoiding him until it stopped. He assumed Mick found him boring and is delighted to discover it isn’t the case. They watch movies together, and Mandy never lasts long because she doesn’t share their passion for action movies. They always argue about who is better, Ian stubbornly sticks to Van Damme even though he can definitely see Seagal’s appeal. It’s just Mickey looks so cute when he is defending his idol.  
Learning Mickey’s body is thrilling, but learning about him makes Ian happy. He used to be happy, maybe a bit soppy, during his early teenage years. His illness took it away from him. He cares about his family and friends, but he assumed he would never feel strongly about another guy, better safe than sorry and all that. Mickey makes him feel again.  
Ian asked Mickey to come over to the café hundred times already, and when he finally appears Ian beams at him like it’s the best thing that could happen. Maybe it is. Some guys try to flirt with him, but he has eyes only for the grumpy thug who apparently has a sweet tooth because he asks for a caramel latte with whipped cream on top. Ian wants to lick into his mouth and suck on that clever tongue. The fantasy gives him half a boner he has to hide from his coworker while Mickey laughs at his idiocy because for some reason the other man can easily tell when Ian is horny.  
Mickey mostly watches other clients, sometimes murmuring rude remarks which make Ian laugh a bit too much, and he reciprocates by sharing gossips he’s heard or knows first hand. They grab dinner later, and it’s not a date, but it’s something, and it’s enough for now.

Ian discovers that Mickey is a bit sex-crazed. He definitely doesn’t look it, but now that they are fucking the older man sends him _the look_ at least once a day. At least, which means that, more often than not, they start a day with hasty handjobs, and end it with a long, hard fuck. Ian’s only experience with someone so eager was when he was manic or around people who did so many drugs they hardly knew what their names were. It’s refreshing and convenient, his libido might not be as high as it was before he started taking pills, but it’s still high, not every guy he was with could keep up with him.  
But Mickey is a needy bottom who can’t really come without something up his ass even when he masturbates, and Ian would lie if he said it’s a hardship for him to be the thing in Mickey’s perfect ass. It does make him wonder whether the older man gets sore after fucking every day, but it seems that Mickey likes a bit of pain and can still grin even when he walks funny. He has no idea how Mandy can not notice they are fucking like bunnies almost under her nose, the limp is pretty obvious. Maybe it’s so improbable in her head that she simply ignores any clues there might be. They are being careful, but there is only that much you can do if you eye-fuck your flatmate every time you talk, and said flatmate basically rubs his ass all over your crotch like a bitch in heat. Not that liking what Mickey does make him a bitch, Ian learned that in a rather painful way. 

Mickey can’t get enough of Ian’s dick. It’s perfectly thick and long, and it hits all the right places. Their sex is hard and rough, verging on painful. It makes him feel like he is being split in two, and he loves every second of it. Jason is good at fucking, but Gallagher is like a porn star, who has done this enough times to master his technique.  
Mickey’s always been a bit of a cockslut, but it still surprised him how often he could, and wanted to, go at it with the younger man. He would come back from the work in the middle of the night, completely exhausted, and even then he’d rather go to Gallagher’s room than to his own. It’s the easiest fuck he’s ever had. He doesn’t have to work for it, there is no seducing involved, just good, old-fashioned fucking whenever and wherever they want, as long as Mandy isn’t around. He can come in, wake Gallagher up with a blow job, and the younger man will only smile at him sleepily, while his hands are already reaching for a condom and lube, ready to fuck Mickey stupid. If he were honest with himself then maybe he would admit that with so much time they spend together, it’s not only Gallagher’s dick that keeps him coming back.  
If Terry saw how well his youngest son was taking dick, he would have a heart attack (it would serve him right). Mickey now is so different from the scared, closeted teenager he was then, that there was a chance Terry wouldn’t even recognize him. It’s a pleasurable thought.   
Mickey knows all the tricks. He knows how to open his body to accommodate a long, fat cock. He knows how to relax his throat, so that he doesn’t choke when Gallagher fucks his face, leaving his mouth bruised and swollen. He knows how to twist his hips to make the younger man whine, how to squeeze his muscles to make him moan and cry out. And he also knows when to spread his legs as far as he can, handing over the control to Gallagher knowing that he will get it good.

Mickey looks beautiful spread on black sheets, his white, unblemished skin in stark contrast with them, while his hair almost disappears amidst the darkness of the fabric. Ian is fucking into him as hard as he can without hurting the older man, ripping out needy noises from his throat. It’s too hot, Ian feels sweat running down his spine, but he can’t, won’t stop. Mickey’s rim is red and puffy, painfully stretched against his girth, and he will never get over how well the other man takes his abuse. Ian is used to controlling his thrusts to avoid going too deep, but Mickey just growls at him asking for everything, whether it’s in his ass or mouth.  
Ian is dying, pounding into slick, tight heaven. He kisses Mickey’s red lips, swallowing cute, little noises that his partner makes after particularly hard thrusts. He bites Mickey’s collarbones, leaving teeth marks that are probably going to bruise, licks the pale skin enjoying the taste of sweat.   
Mickey scratches at his back, hips lifting and body stiffening. He must be close, he always does that before coming untouched, trying to get as much cock as he can. Ian stops kissing him then because he knows what’s coming, and he will never miss it. Mickey gasps and then lets out a long whine, almost sounding like a girl, his come hitting his chest.   
Usually, Ian gives him few seconds of rest, and after doesn’t get anywhere near Mickey’s prostate, but he is feeling a bit wicked today. He keeps moving, not slowing down. The older man tries to push him away, slow down a bit, but he is still too blissed out from orgasm to be able to stand against Ian’s strength.   
“God…stop…don’t,” come the weak pleas, but Ian only grins at him, watching in awe as tears gather in Mickey’s eyes. It takes few more brutal thrusts, few feeble efforts on the older man’s side, and Ian is coming, hoping that the condom will break and coat Mickey’s insides in his cum.   
It doesn’t.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babysitting Yev, and then some fisting. Ian's head is a bit of a mess, still.

Svetlana names her baby Yevgeny, because she is Russian like that, and little Yevgeny is a pretty decent child, but still really fucking time-absorbing. Mickey isn’t even sure what sort of magic made him agree to babysit during the weekend. It was probably Lana’s tired face, exhaustion making her look older than she is. Or maybe it was some matryoshka magic because he definitely doesn’t remember being this agreeable, and yet he said he would take the baby for the weekend while Svetlana and Nika hole up in their flat doing nasty, lesbo things he doesn’t want to think about. Mandy laughs for fifteen minutes when she sees him with a baby, but then she coos at the tiny bundle and takes approximately thousand pictures before Mickey is able to stop her. He can only hope she doesn’t post them on her Facebook.  
He knows shit-all about babies, but if Svetlana is willing to risk it and leave her spawn with him, then it can’t be that difficult. Also, there is a list with clear instructions on how to operate the baby. Nap times, feeding times, food and bath temperature, how to put the clothes and nappies on, everything. It seems easy enough, and Yevgeny really isn’t all that fussy for someone who was recently born and just started to discover how awful the world is. He thinks Iggy once said that Mandy was a little devil, crying and screaming all the time. Yev just really likes to be held, to the point where Mickey has to take him to the fucking bathroom with him, but that’s alright, he can cope, he was always good at doing stuff with one hand only since Terry liked to press and press, until something broke or sprained.  
While Mandy’s been amused, Gallagher looks like his brain shuts down for few minutes, just staring between the baby and Mickey. Then there is a heated look in his eyes as he slowly approaches the pair, under the guise of wanting to touch Yev’s soft, blond baby hair.   
“You look so hot right now I want to fuck you through the wall. God, you’re like an epitome of a sexy dad.” Through the thin material of Gallagher’s sweats Mickey can see that he is hard, and it probably should freak him out, but he just smirks and goes to make Yev a bottle.

Saturday is busy because Mandy insists on going to the park since it finally got a bit warmer. He tries to object, the baby seems to be too small to go out for longer than a few minutes at a time just yet, but then they google it and decide that there isn’t much risk. Gallagher goes with them and brings a bloody basket with a blanket and food. Mickey kind of wants to throw up, but his sister looks happy playing with the baby, pretending that hey are some sort of a happy family, and the redhead also seems to be having fun, so he doesn’t feel like spoiling… whatever pseudo-family shit this is.  
He mostly sits quietly eating food he is given and not listening to his companion’s incessant babbling. They’re talking about classes he doesn’t take, people he doesn’t know and things he’s never done, so it’s not like he can contribute anything that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot. Yev is drooling peacefully on his shoulder, it seems that he actually prefers Mickey to Mandy or Gallagher which is a little bit flattering, not that he would ever admit it to anyone.   
He takes the baby to show him one of the dogs playing nearby because there is a ridiculously big dog prancing with a ball, it’s so big that one of his parents simply had to be a pony. Maybe it’s Mickey who is interested, Yev only gurgles because he can’t really do much yet, but no one will ever know that. Mickey scratches behind the dog’s ears, and earns himself a dog smile.  
“Her name is Sunny. She is big, cute and dumb,” a male voice informs him. He turns around to face the stranger who is a one tall fucker with a million watt smile.   
“What breed is she?”  
“Great dane. I’m Will.”   
“Mickey,” usually that’s the moment they’d shake hands, but Mickey’s are busy with the baby and the dog.   
“So I told you my baby’s name, what’s yours?”   
“Oh. Uh. Not mine, friend’s. It’s Yevgeny. Yev.”  
“Hello Yev, nice to meet you.” Yev makes small spit bubbles, it’s the best greeting he can manage so far.  
“Never seen you before, maybe if you came more often you could play with my dog more.” Is that a double entendre? Is Will flirting with him? He has no idea, Jason once said that flirting with him is like hitting on a wall, only a wall will catch on faster. He stays put because Will is funny and tries to talk about stuff Mickey knows about. It doesn’t hurt that Sunny is a pretty fucking awesome, if indeed a little dumb, dog. When his new acquaintance has to leave he writes his number on a piece of paper and puts it in Mickey’s pocket. Okay, so it was flirting.   
Gallagher glares daggers at him when he gets back, and sits unnecessarily close, his thigh touching Mickey’s. After a while the younger man sneaks a hand inside of his pocket, and before Mickey can even complain, he steals the crumpled paper, ripping it when Mandy isn’t looking.

Jealousy blindsides Ian, he doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with it. He remembers feeling jealous when one of his siblings got something he wanted, but he doesn’t remember being jealous because of a guy. Usually he is the one everyone lusts after, so he is surprised and confused when part of his brain tells him to march up to the talking pair and reclaim what’s not even his. He settles on glaring threateningly and then shreds the guy’s number. Mickey doesn’t seem too broken about it, he doesn’t even mention it later, and Ian feels at ease again. He likes Mickey, and he is 99% sure Mickey likes him back. Ian’s liking is probably more romantic than casual, but what the older man doesn’t know…  
It’s hard to believe how good his life is. Northside of Chicago definitely wasn’t bad, his family is still there, but good memories were often overshadowed by what happened when he was manic. Fiona always tells him that none of it was his fault, but he can’t shake off the feeling that if he tried harder he would have avoided at least some of it. But the damage is done, and he can only hope it never happens again. He used to think that skipping meds wouldn’t hurt him, that he was stronger than his illness, that he could control it, but no more. Therapy helped a lot, it made him understand certain aspects of his life he never thought about before. It helped him understand his disorder, accept it for what it was. For Ian, knowing that it will never go away was freeing, in a way.   
Monica never reached this level. He sometimes wonders what happened to his mother, but after everything she’s done to their family, to him, he isn’t emotionally invested enough to look for her. She is the worst that happened to them, even worse than Frank. Frankly speaking it would be easier if she just died after giving birth to Liam. Is it cruel to wish your mother was dead? Maybe. He used to love her, and all it ever brought to him was heartache and disappointment. 

It’s interesting how much you can learn about a person just from having sex with them. And maybe from the circumstances surrounding it. Mickey is never very chatty, but he is more open after sex, doesn’t scoff so much at Ian’s questions, so the redhead exploits it, gently prodding until he gets his answers. Some of them make his skin crawl, make him want to fly to Chicago and beat Terry Milkovich to a bloody pulp.   
He learns that Mickey dislikes spanking because Terry used to hit him with a belt seemingly for no reason at all, and no matter what it always makes him go soft. He hates being restrained, he always has to be able to defend himself, even in intimate situations, or maybe especially then. The fear of being helpless is so deeply ingrained in his brain that merely thinking about it makes him nauseous. This, Ian gets. He may not really be Southside, but he finds it unnerving when his hands or legs are tied. Makes him feel like he is the perfect prey waiting to be used, it reminds him of how helpless he used to be.   
Ian tried to, once, to get Mick call him a _daddy_ , but almost got decked for his effort and had to work really hard to get his friend going again. It was obvious that any kind of age play is out of question. Ian should know better, but he always wanted to try it with someone young. With older guys, they were always in charge, they wouldn’t call him that even if he was the one fucking them. It would be a nice thing to have with Mickey, but he isn’t going to press.  
Sometimes, especially on days when he bartends, Mickey falls asleep before round two, just a quick nap. Ian watches him them, catalogues scars that he can find, small imperfections on otherwise flawless skin. He kisses them gently, apologizing for the past pain. Mickey is beautiful and Ian can’t get enough of him. He wants to lick Mickey’s full lips and suck on them any time he wants. He wants to look into ice cold, blue eyes without being scolded for it. He wants to hold hands, and hug, and…  
He settles for watching Mickey sleep, looking young and vulnerable.

***

“I want to fist you,” Ian says, all business like. They’re eating breakfast, and thanks God Mandy is not there, but it’s not really a topic for a polite conversation anyway. Even Mickey knows that. “Have you done this before?”  
“Not really..?”  
“Good. I figured there has to be something you haven’t done, even with all your toys and guys,” is that supposed to be an implication that Mickey is a slut?  
“What the fuck, Gallagher?”  
“What? You don’t think it’s going to be fun? You love having things up your ass. Tongues, fingers, cocks, beads. I’ll make it so good for you, I can already imagine you all sweaty, writhing on my hand, your ass clenching on my wrist while I fuck you,” Ian almost purrs.  
Mickey doesn’t get flustered easily, but he has to admit it’s hot. Though, there is a pretty good reason why he’s never done this before. Fisting sounds great in theory, but even with his experience it takes a lot of stretching and preparation. And trust, because if the partner rushes it, they’ll both regret ever trying.  
“Have you done this? ‘Cause I don’t fancy getting hurt this bad.” The predatory look slips off Ian’s face, replaced by uncertainty.  
“No, but I studied, I’m not going to hurt you. I bought special lube already, and if you’ll be uncomfortable then we will stop. Let me put a fist in you, Mick.”  
It’s probably one of the weirdest breakfast conversations he’s ever had, drug deals were nothing unusual in his neighbourhood, but this… He avoids looking at Ian’s hopeful face, it still baffles him how someone can shift so easily between being cocky and sweet.  
He ends up agreeing because Ian’s puppy eyes could probably stop the wars if the redhead wanted to. It may also excite him a bit. Ian’s hands are big, like the rest of him, strong with long, slim fingers, inviting. Pain isn’t bad when it’s interlaced with pleasure, and the younger man said he would stop anytime, so why not? They have to wait until Mandy decides to have a sleepover (knowing her it’s more of a home party) at her friend’s place, it wouldn’t do to have his sister barge in on them because she heard some weird noises. Mickey is sure there will be loud, weird noises.  
Preparations feel definitely un-sexy, when he has to wash himself thoroughly and find the biggest towel possible to avoid staining the bed. His hands are not as steady as he would like them to be, it’s hard to tell whether it’s from excitement or fear. Maybe both.  
Ian is grinning like a madman when he positions him on his back, with knees up. Mickey can tell that the lube he’s bought is some high quality shit, and it puts him at ease. For some unknown reason he trusts Ian enough to do this. Now he can only hope for the best.  
He hardly feels the first two fingers, third one gives him a bit of a stretch that he can appreciate. Gallagher doesn’t play with his dick, too concentrated on the task, but he decides against jerking off. His ass is sensitive, and since he can come from prostate milking, then this should work as well. He can see the outline of Ian’s hard cock covered by tight, green briefs. For some reason he insisted on keeping them on.  
With the fourth finger Mickey discovers how different Ian’s hand is from his. Namely, it’s much bigger. When he uses four fingers, the stretch is just right, but when fingers belong to a different person, well, things get slightly uncomfortable. He grunts.

Mickey tenses around his fingers, his body doesn’t seem to be able to decide if it wants to keep him in or push him out. He is nothing but determined, though, so he adds more lube and slowly moves his hand. For now his aim is to stretch, not to stimulate too much, and he does just that. Mickey is biting his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He looks so adorable Ian has to kiss his thigh sloppily.  
“You’re perfect, so good for me,” he says before thinking.   
He didn’t know Mick had this kink, but it seems to be working since the older man gasps and relaxes, no longer trying to crush his fingers. Ian rewards him with a soft ‘good boy’ and a brush against prostate. He tucks the thumb in making his hand narrower and then pushes against the rim. Mickey keens and tries to move his hips back, but Ian follows.  
“You’re doing so good baby, just a little more,” he praises and pushes again. Mickey fights him before his legs fall even more open, and the widest part of Ian’s hand stretches him.

The pain resembles the one he felt when Jason and his boy-toy fucked him at the same time, but it’s sharper, Ian’s hand is quite bony. Logically speaking it shouldn’t be stimulating, but Mickey feels a bit like a mindless animal, bearing down to get more of it, dick hard and leaking. He feels as Ian adds more lube and cries out when another pull, immediately followed by a push, comes and Ian’s whole hand is in him. His hips jerk involuntarily, it takes him few seconds to realize that he is fucking himself on Ian’s hand, trying to make it move. Breathing is difficult, his lungs refuse to cooperate, and he blacks out for a while when Ian’s fingers carefully curl into a fist. When he comes to it the hand is deeper than it was before, he no longer is clenching around the wrist.   
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he doesn’t care his voice is so high it could be mistaken for girl’s. All he cares about is the hand splitting him in two, the mind-numbing pleasure and the sharp pain. It’s too much, and yet – not enough.  
“Go faster, yeah, faster.” Ian inhales sharply and obliges. It feels like someone is punching him from the inside, every time rubbing against his prostate. He _shoves_ down one last time, almost screaming when the pain hits him hard, and comes untouched all over his stomach and chest.

Mickey goes limp around his hand, and Ian pulls out as fast as he can without hurting his partner. His cock is deep red and harder than it’s ever been, almost ready to burst. He quickly puts a condom on and slides inside Mickey’s swollen hole. It’s warmer than usually and not as tight. It’s unbelievably sexy, and he manages three sharp thrusts before coming. It doesn’t matter since Mick is still out of it. The sleeping (or rather, unconscious) man is breathing shakily, but his face is lax and peaceful, spots of red marking his cheeks, soft lips parted. He looks so beautiful that Ian’s heart starts beating erratically. _He wants._  
They share a cigarette when Mickey finally wakes up. Ian knows he is still drowsy, that’s why he says what he says with the confidence he doesn’t feel, “So I haven’t fucked anyone else in a while.”  
He only gets a grunt as an answer, but it’s good enough for now. He isn’t going to ask whether Mickey has been fucking someone else, he isn’t that much of a masochist.   
“I think we could be exclusive fuck buddies. We fuck a lot, and it will be safer, right?”  
There is a hesitant ‘yeah, alright’ after a beat, and Ian can’t stop smiling.

***

Mickey is good at reading people, it comes from years of watching people move around him, of watching his dad to be ready before he strikes. Ian isn’t exactly the greatest puzzle of the universe, so it’s easy to notice when something is not quite right. Mandy notices it too, not like it’s any kind of achievement when someone snaps at you for stealing their pop tart, making it much bigger than it is. Who in their right mind starts a fight over a fucking pop tart? Apparently, Ian does. They talk about it later, Mandy claims it’s stress from school and work, and Mickey believes it at first. She is Ian’s best friend after all.  
But then he is having sex with the redhead, and Ian brings handcuffs with him even though Mickey has repeatedly told him that any types of restraints are off-limits. But the younger man doesn’t listen this time, his nimble fingers distract Mickey, and Milkovich finds himself handcuffed to the headboard. He isn’t comfortable with this, both physically and mentally, and he tells Ian which results in no reaction at all. At least at first, because he gets slapped a few times like a bitch when he starts struggling, trying to get away.  
Ian is reckless with him and it burns. Not enough preparation and lube, he spreads Mickey’s thighs to the point where the strain is too much, the places on his body hurting from where Ian’s hipbones collide with it. Mickey gets off anyway, even if the angle is weird and the penetration feels slightly wrong, but it’s only because he enjoys being fucked more than anything else and knows how to take his pleasure from it. Ian makes no move to touch his dick. The second he is free he knees younger man in the ribs and smashes his face into the wall, leaving smears of blood on it. It seems to knock some sense into the younger man because after that Ian looks at him with big, wet eyes and continues to apologize long after Mickey forgives him.  
It’s not enough for Mickey to connect the dots. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is on a short side because something is coming, and I didn't want to have to split it in too many parts.
> 
> Ian's disorder makes appearance, but it's not really about it.

When Mickey was eight Terry found himself a girlfriend. At least that’s how she introduced herself to Mickey when she saw him standing awkwardly in the kitchen, spilled water wetting his hand-me-down pajama pants, afraid that she is going to yell at him or call Terry. She did neither. Instead, she helped him clean the mess he made, smiling the whole time. He was an angry child, but she coaxed a shy smile out of him, even though Mickey has already forgotten how to be really happy. She wasn’t like other girls Terry brought home. She wasn’t a whore, she waited tables at some dingy diner, and she wasn’t just a one night stand either. She was petit, had curly, auburn hair and never smelled like alcohol or meth. She talked to Mickey, sought him out when Terry was sleeping, and saved leftover pie for him.   
Her name was Abbey. Even her name was pretty.  
She couldn’t be more than thirty, and even at the age of eight Mickey wondered why she wanted to be around his family. They were nothing but pain and dirt. But she made his life more bearable, so he didn’t question it. His father was less violent when Abbey was around, he didn’t smack Mickey so hard, he didn’t throw empty bottles at Iggy. It wasn’t good, life was never good with Terry, but it was better.  
But the thing about Terry was that he was unpredictable. One moment he would be laughing at Colin’s dumb joke, and next he would spit at him for being a useless fucker. Anything could make him snap, even the most innocent things. Mickey knew that his father hit Abbey when he thought she did something wrong (she never ever did). And one day he just snapped. Mickey hid in his room because he was only eight, and no matter how hard he tried there was no way he could take Terry in a fight.   
When the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, things being thrown and cries stopped Mickey slowly came out of his room, trying to be as quiet as it’s humanly possible. The house was silent, Terry nowhere in sight. Abbey was lying on the living room floor, her pretty skin covered in blood, face so swollen he wouldn’t recognize her, if he didn’t already know who she was. He brought her some water and a wet rag which was pitifully small, or maybe the damage was too big, but she accepted it anyway. They didn’t talk while he tried to help her. Every bruise and cut made him bite his lips harder and harder until he tasted blood. It was the first time he wanted to protect another person, and his failure would haunt him years later.   
It was the last time Mickey saw Abbey, the last thing she said to him was a whispered ‘I’m sorry’ just before she left. If he were older he would be able to appreciate the irony of it, but as a child he simply nodded. It’s surprising that she left on her own, most Southside girls stayed for as long as they were wanted, their self-esteems almost non-existent. Every blow seemed like an admission of love to them.   
He made a mistake of asking Terry about her, once. It was a very fast, very brutal lesson. He never mentioned Abbey again. It doesn’t mean he forgot. 

Ian reminds him of Abbey. Mickey doesn’t deserve to be around him, just like he didn’t deserve to be around her. Mickey doesn’t know how to make things better, he is a master of destruction. Like father, like son.   
It doesn’t change the fact that he is going to enjoy their… something while it lasts. It also means he is going to worry (and it’s all Abbey’s fault.) When Ian is still in his room when Mickey gets up, and there is no proof of him leaving the room, the older man starts getting anxious. He knows the redhead’s routine, they’ve been living together long enough for that.  
Ian is a freak that jogs and exercises in the mornings then eats a healthy breakfast while enjoying a newspaper. He jogs whether it’s sunny or rainy, or there is a fucking blizzard. But not today. Today he stays in his room, and when Mickey comes back from the garage there are no signs of Ian doing anything at all. No new plates drying, no crumbs on the table, no wet towels in the bathroom, nothing.  
He takes a quick shower and decides to stop pretending, Mandy isn’t even there to comment on his sudden interest in their flatmate, and enters the redhead’s room without knocking. Because he tried knocking earlier, and it didn’t work. It looks like Ian might be sleeping, but his eyes are open and when Mickey appears in his line of sight there is a flicker of recognition. A very weak “yeah” murmured when Mickey asks if everything is fine, which is enough proof that it isn’t.   
Lip picks up after a fifth signal, it’s the first time either of them is calling about something else than a booty call. Which is probably why Lip sounds almost suspicious when he answers.  
“Ian is acting weird,” Mickey says without preamble.   
“Weird how?” Lip seems more alert now.  
“He won’t leave his room, I don’t think he moved at all today.”  
“Does he answer when you talk to him?”  
“Yeah, kind of.”  
“And has anything else happened recently?” He can’t exactly tell his ex-hook up that said hook-up’s brother hurt him in bed, so he says something about aggressive behaviour hoping Lip won’t ask for details. He doesn’t.   
“Look it’s… It’s his disorder. He is on a low now. It’s not bad since he is talking, but he needs to see a doctor as soon as possible.”   
“Uh, sure, I’ll tell him to go.”  
“He may not want to.” Mickey rolls his eyes and sighs to himself.  
“Then I’ll make him. Anything else?”  
“Make sure he takes his pills? I know it’s not your responsibility, but we’re too far, and…”  
“It’s cool,” he hangs up before Lip can finish.  
Maybe it is his business.

Ian still doesn’t move, but he drinks some water when Mickey brings it to him. They sit mostly in silence, Mickey from time to time comments on something he finds while browsing the internet, but other than that he doesn’t try to engage the younger man. He figures there is time and place for everything.  
“Is that my laptop?” the question is barely louder than a sigh.  
“Yeah, shithead, that’s what happens when you ain’t have a password.”  
There is a sound resembling a dry chuckle, a pause, and then Ian starts speaking.  
“I did things, Mick. Wrong, low things. I hurt people. Mandy is right, I’m a whore. I don’t…”  
“Aye, man, shut up. That’s your low talking,” Mickey would rather go back to silence than listen to Ian berate himself.   
“No. I did, I did. I was bad, I had a fucking sugar daddy, I’m worthless,” the younger man doesn’t sound sad, he sounds hollow.  
“Shut up, Jesus. Never thought I’d miss the silence, but I’m not listening to that shit,” Mickey takes a deep breath because he is going to reveal something he’s sworn he never would. No one knows, but then again he doesn’t know any other people who would find comfort in what he is going to say. “Look, when I came here I had some money. Some. Like, not a lot, not enough to survive. ‘Cause I wasn’t ready to leave Chicago when I did, yeah? I planned on staying few more months, I couldn’t save everything I made for myself or Terry would notice. I went to gay clubs a lot when I came here, thought I could be a bouncer or something, but also because I could stay there for a few hours, mostly for free. It was warm, dudes would buy me drinks, sometimes food if I worked it right. I fucked some of them, let them take me home hoping I would be able stay the night if I wore them out or rode their dicks so good that they’d want a repeat in the morning. And then one day this guy doesn’t take me to his place, just fucks me in the back of his SUV, latest model or whatever. I was pissed, it was fucking cold, and I really needed a warm place to sleep, one that didn’t smell like piss and vomit. But he gives me some cash after, for the fucking. I was livid, wanted to rip his dick off, but he told me to milk what I have. Said there is no shame in fucking for money. Turns out posh, New York faggots love to fuck dirty thugs, it makes them feel good about their own fucking status or whatever, when they go back to their upscale apartments. So I did it again and again, and again, until I found a steady job. Most of the time money wasn’t even that good, and it was, dunno, humiliating because I was trash to them, and I knew that. Maybe being a whore isn’t something to be ashamed of, but he sure as hell doesn’t make you feel good about your life. You fucked your guy for sex and feelings or whatever, not for money. If he wanted to spend them on you then you’d be dumb not to use it. It gives you a fancy degree, man. So, you’re fucking clever, and I’m a whore here,” Mickey’s tone is light, almost teasing, like it’s not a big deal, like talking about it doesn’t make him go cold.  
Ian shifts, moving closer to the edge of the bed, and reaches for him. He tugs at his friend’s hand until Mickey relents and lies next to him, their bodies barely touching.   
“I’m sorry I’m like that.”  
“Not your fault man.”  
On Saturday Ian still doesn’t leave the room, but he eats when Mickey shoves food into his face and talks a bit more. On Sunday he is up. Not for a morning jog, but he comes out and eats breakfast in the kitchen. He looks surprisingly tired for someone who spent two days lying in bed doing nothing, but he gives Mickey a small, shy smile.  
“We need to get you to the doctor.”  
“It’s fine, it happens from time to time,” Ian looks at him, his eyes wide and honest.  
“If it’s fine then it’ll be a very quick visit, right?” Mickey knows he is a little bitch, but he isn’t buying Gallagher’s bullshit.  
“No, Mick. I don’t have to go there, everything is under control.”  
“Oh. Does it mean you wanted to hurt me the other day?” Ian’s whole body stiffens, and his face switches from white to red in just few seconds.   
“Oh my God, no, I didn’t, I wouldn’t…”  
“See. Let’s take you to the doc, Firecrotch, and I’ll blow you later.” 

It’s not a quick visit. It’s long enough for Mickey to get both irritated and worried, ready to burst into the room. It takes a lot of willpower not to do that, and he is concentrating on not breaking something so hard that Ian’s hand on his arm surprises him. He turns sharply, fists already up, ready to defend himself.  
“Chill Mick, it’s me. We can go.”  
Ian doesn’t exactly look better, but he seems more relaxed, the skin around his eyes and mouth no longer tight. They stop on their way home to buy some new pills for Gallagher, and Mickey can’t stop thinking about the fact that Ian is doing it for him. He is almost certain the redhead would wait until at least one more episode before finally going to the doctor. But he doesn’t want to hurt Mickey again, and it’s something older man doesn’t have experience with. It’s weird knowing that someone other than Mandy cares whether he gets hurt or not.  
For a whole week things are strictly platonic between them, Mickey isn’t entirely comfortable with having sex with Ian while the other man is adjusting to the new pill routine. But even watching movies, talking and playing games is enjoyable, maybe they can even be real friends. Still, after work on Friday, instead of going to his room Mickey goes to Ian’s and wakes him up with a blow job.  
He isn’t a big fan of sucking dick, but he knows from experience that it’s a nice way to be woken up. He sucks hard, but Ian isn’t even half hard when he pushes Mickey’s head away.  
“I… I’m getting used to new pills, and it’s hard for me to, I mean I can, it’s not like in the past, but it takes time. Maybe we should wait,” he sounds embarrassed and refuses to look at the older man.  
Mickey bites his lips, thinking.  
“The way I see it man, is you need more incentive.” He goes to his room and comes back with a bottle of extra slick lube and a vibrator. The toy is long and thick with silicone veins imitating a real dick.  
“Sit back and watch, Firecrotch.”

To say Ian is surprised would be an understatement. He expects Mickey to just give up, he almost wants him to because there is nothing more mortifying than a limp dick when someone as hot as Mickey touches you, wants to be fucked by you.   
It happened, but instead of leaving the older man decides to give him a show. It might not work, but Ian is not going to complain either way. He kind of is already aroused, even if his body didn’t catch up yet.  
Mickey puts his mouth around the vibrator, slowly but surely pushing down, trying to take the whole thing. It’s completely unnecessary with the lube available, but it makes Ian’s breath hitch. Mick’s lips instantly turn bright red around the thick toy, and his eyes water, but he doesn’t stop until he is almost choking on it, his throat clenching around the toy. He moans and sucks few times, eyes never leaving Ian’s. He slowly withdraws, letting his teeth slightly scrape the fake dick, and Ian shivers.   
“Yours tastes better,” it’s lame and cheap, but it serves its purpose when Ian’s pupils dilate with lust. Mickey lies down with legs bent and spread open, presenting like a bitch in heat. He is no one’s bitch, but he’s got all the moves with years of practice. He pours a small dollop of lube on his fingers and spreads it over the toy. Ian’s mouth falls open when Mickey, instead of fingering himself, starts pushing the vibrator inside his unprepared, tight hole. It resists at first, intent of keeping the toy out, the skin around the small opening turning red and then white, but Mickey just _pushes harder_ until it relents and swallows the vibrator.  
“Does it feel good?” Ian asks noticing that he sounds shaky and out of breath. He feels like there isn’t enough air in the room.  
“It hurts, ah, it hurts,” but Mickey doesn’t stop. His thighs shake when the toy bottoms out, and Mickey keens, touching his nipples, moving down to his full cock, taking a detour to scratch his hips before finally reaching reddened hole and touching the taut skin around the vibrator. He presses slightly, fingertips almost entering his already full, completely unprepared for the assault body.   
“There is a remote… if you want,” he offers, and Ian doesn’t need to be told twice.   
It starts easy, the first setting is just a small, barely there vibration. It lasts for a while, but then Mickey’s whole body jumps like he’s been electrocuted because there is a huge fucking difference between one and six, especially when six is the highest setting which makes his whole body vibrate. It’s too much too soon, he cries out in pain, but his hips keep moving, and he is leaking all over his stomach, his cock angry red. Ian is hard enough to put a condom on, and not even three minutes later his dick is replacing the fake one. The older man winces when Ian hastily pulls the vibrator out but doesn’t complain.   
Mickey is like a vice round him, hot, tight and perfect. Ian grins at him, stupidly happy, and goes at it without restraints, fucking into the pliant body. At one point Mickey laughs at him between the moans because the whole bed is shaking with the force of his thrusts, and they’re almost falling off of it.   
Mickey comes with a shout, and Ian keeps going.  
“Avoid prostate, yeah?” is the last thing Ian lets him say before putting two fingers between his red, red lips and fucking them the same way he is fucking Mickey’s other hole.

It takes him more time than usually to come, but neither of them comments on it.   
“That was good, man,” Mickey is sucking on a cigarette like it’s providing him with oxygen and not slow death.   
“Thank you, Mick.”  
“Jesus fuck, don’t thank me for sex.”  
“Thanks for the show, it really got me going.”  
“I could tell, my ass is so sore I’m going to feel it ‘til the next week.”  
Ian laughs hysterically while Mickey repeatedly punches his arm to make him stop. It’s not even that funny.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall apart, I guess.

Ethan and his friends, Ian’s new friends, are rich. Very rich, some would say: stupidly rich, no one should have so much money to blow on pleasures, and he envies them a bit. Who wouldn’t want to be free of worry? At least when it comes to money and paying bills. But he always had this ability, a skill maybe, which allowed him to fit in with rich people. Lip says it’s his good looks, Ian refuses to believe that’s the case. It has to be something else, something less shallow.   
They don’t know about his disorder or the recent breakdown. No one asks about his pills when he stays over, all of them are on something, rich guys love their little pills. He isn’t pretending to be someone else, no matter what Lip says, it’s just… sometimes it’s nice to be around people who have no idea that he will never be healthy like them. Who don’t think he is fragile and may break any moment. Not that Mandy or Mickey treat him any different after he told them, but he still wants friends who simply don’t know, or care, about BD. Mickey helped him through the episode, was so good and unexpectedly patient, but Ian wants to erase that from their relationship. He doesn’t want to be a sad, pathetic boy whining about his life in the older man’s mind. Even though nothing changed in Mickey’s behaviour towards him, Ian can’t help but wonder whether Mick thinks he is weak. And Ethan, for all the generosity he is displaying, isn’t really helping.  
For some reasons he feels closest to Ethan, while he doesn’t talk about being bipolar, he definitely talks about Mickey. About sex they are having, and sometimes about the way the older man’s eyes look when he is satisfied or maybe even happy. Ethan tries to be a voice of reason, always reminding him about the fact that Mickey can’t give him the things that he deserves, that there is no happily ever after for them. After all Mickey isn’t very forthcoming when it comes to affection. Ian would think that Ethan is jealous, he did want Mickey at some point, but his friend can have any guy he wants – either because of his good looks or because of his money. Ethan uses both completely shamelessly.  
It has to be the truth then, the one Ian can’t notice because he is too close. Sex, watching movies together, sharing a joint, that’s probably not something you build a relationship on.

There is another party, but this time it’s a _loft_ party. Just saying this leaves a bad taste in Mickey’s mouth, and Mandy is not there. Not that she was much help last time, but at least there was a familiar face he could seek out when things got especially boring. This time he only has Ian, and it takes the younger man all of ten minutes to abandon him for some friends. It doesn’t mean he is left alone, pretentious gay fuckers are watching him like harpies ready to pounce any moment. He remembers the Ethan guy, he doesn’t want to, but it’s really difficult when the guy looks too good to fucking exist, almost as good as Ian.   
Ethan is all over him, pretending again, but it’s not like Mickey has anything better to do, he isn’t going to follow Ian like some lost puppy, so he more or less listens to the bullshit that comes out of Ethan’s mouth. It’s only a preparation for the real deal when the rich fucker makes a move on him again.   
“Everyone here is gay, right?” he finally notices, just to say something, to stop the incessant babbling. Even Gallagher is better than that, at least what he says makes sense most of the time.   
“Yeah. We don’t need privileged straight guys around.” It’s amusing that Ethan seems to think he isn’t privileged just because he is gay. He is still a rich fuck who’s never seen real streets, sheltered from anything that could harm him.  
“And it’s a real sausage fest.”  
“I don’t have anything against women, but man, they’re a bunch of weak bitches, good for breeding and nothing else. I’d give anything for men to be able to get pregnant.”  
Mickey isn’t too big on women, but then again he isn’t too big on people in general. But Mandy is a girl, so are Lana and Abbey. The most important people in his life are women, and he isn’t going to listen to some joker insulting them only because he prefers sticking it in men.  
“You’re one dumb faggot, and you wouldn’t last an hour in Southside. My sister would break your fucking face without breaking sweat. Fuck off now,” he doesn’t wait for an answer, just heads for the bar (because of course there is a bar with a real bartender) and gets the cheapest brand of beer he can, it’s still better than he is used to drinking. The bartender smirks at him knowingly.  
“Ethan is the king douchebag.”  
“Yep.”  
“Did you know that when he was looking for a bartender he said that only gays can apply?” Mickey grunts, neither surprised nor interested. The bartender lowers his voice.  
“I told him I’m gay, but I really, really like girls.”  
Mickey blinks, processing new information, and then laughs until he is almost crying. It’s nothing, it’s ridiculous, and he loves it.  
“My sister kind of knows him. She is a lesbian, but he always insults her, so she suggested I do it. He thinks his gaydar is spot on, but I think we both know it’s bullshit. Name’s Jake.”  
“What, not Ewan, Spencer or Gilbert?”  
Jake snorts, “Fuck you. I’m from New York, but definitely not this side of town. My family is dirt poor, smartass.” Ian is nowhere in sight, and posh bastards crowding the loft can go and suck his dick for all he cares, so he decides to spend the night talking to Jake. It’s the best he can do in this place. Maybe it’s good in general too.   
Ian finds him around 3am. Mickey is pretty buzzed, but he can still tell that younger man is high on weed (or something else he won’t think about). He says goodbye to Jake, whose number he has saved on his mobile, and takes the giggly ginger to their flat. It’s a pretty long bus ride, but Ian mostly stares at nothing and laughs to himself, so it’s not that bad.  
He looks happy. It makes Mickey wonder if only rich people like Ethan can make Ian happy. It wouldn’t be surprising, he fits right in with his perfect body and face. He is too nice, but fake it ‘til you make it isn’t a bad motto to live by if it gets you what you need.

***

Ian likes Mickey’s bar. It’s classier than the ones he used to frequent as a teenager without being stuffy, both younger and older clientele seems to be at ease. It doesn’t hurt that the bartenders look absolutely hot in their outfits, and that the dancers know how to move. More often than not Mandy comes with him, she likes to watch even if she can’t touch. She teases Ian when he doesn’t try to hook up with anyone, oblivious to the situation between Mickey and him.  
He is a bit angry at the older man after a loft party. It’s definitely the last party both of them were invited to because apparently Mickey managed to say something so insulting, that Ethan doesn’t want to see him ever again. These guys may be a little pretentious, but they are Ian’s friends, so he doesn’t appreciate Mickey going all Southside on them. No more parties for both of them, but Ian is people’s person, so there is no way he is going to stay at home, like his flatmate tends to do. He really doesn’t get why Mickey dislikes having fun. If one can be allergic to fun then Mick definitely is. He rarely ever goes out when Ian suggests some party, the only thing that can persuade him is the alcohol and a blow job. Sex is fun, alcohol is fun, but Ian likes to dance, meet new people, go out with them, and the older man… doesn’t.

Ian is out a lot, but it doesn’t start as a problem. It never does.   
He is Mickey’s almost the exact opposite, he likes people, loud music and dancing. Most people like things like that, it’s normal. Nothing to worry about. If anything, it’s Mickey who is the weird one. He can deal with that, Mandy always says life would be boring if everyone was the same.  
But of course Gallagher has to fuck up. It starts with a small bruise at the hollow of his neck. Mickey doesn’t really like marking, that’s Ian’s forte, but he lets it slide. It’s not like he remembers every single detail of their fucking. But then there are just too many scratches and hickeys which make everything pretty much self-explanatory. They’re just exclusive fuck buddies, not partners, and if Ian wants to call off the exclusive part without telling him, then he has every right to do so. Mickey refuses to be hurt.

***

Mickey looks especially good with his hair free of gel and a soft flush tinting his pale cheeks. They hardly started, but the older man is already moaning, spreading his legs and trying to get Ian on him.  
Ian is not a saint, so if Mickey wants to do it without any preparation, then he isn’t going to question it. The older man knows his body better than anyone else. He slowly slides in, and it doesn’t feel right. Too easy, too sloppy.  
“The fuck? When did you have time to prepare yourself?”  
“What? No, man.”  
“Then what? You already got fucked?”  
“Yeah, at the club.”  
“What about our agreement?” Mickey rolls eyes at him.  
“Look who’s talking. You fucked, like at least three guys last two weeks. You gonna finish or just chit-chat?” Ian finishes. It takes him some time to come, he keeps getting distracted by the fact that he is fucking someone’s leftovers. Isn’t that ironic?

Mickey loves men. He used to wish he didn’t, especially when Terry took him fag bashing and he had to pretend to be disgusted by people like him, but he learned to accept that he will never be anything else. You can’t fuck someone straight, God knows Terry tried that on him.   
He likes thick thighs and big hands that can easily leave bruises on his hips. He can appreciate muscles, but doesn’t really care for them as long as the guy can dominate him. He likes it when men push him down and fuck into his body like they belong inside of him, like they own him, at least for a moment. He likes their short hair, just long enough to pull. He even likes beard burn in small doses, especially when it’s on the insides of his thighs. There is nothing sexier than a musky smell of a man with a hint of sweat.   
He loves it when men can overpower him, hold him down, tower over him. He likes his height, his small body, only when he is with a guy. Lana thinks it’s because he feels the need to give up control. He’s been fighting since he was a kid, and needs someone else to take care of him. Mickey isn’t too comfortable with this theory, so he doesn’t think too much about it. What can Svetlana know anyway, she likes women more than he ever did.   
Ian is all that and more, so mostly – Mickey likes Ian. It wasn’t a problem, but it quickly became one. The world just won’t let him catch a break, constantly proving, that he doesn’t deserve better.

When he goes to bed on Fridays he is always bone deep tired, hoping he could sleep for ten years without interruptions. His shifts at the bar are longer because he really doesn’t want Mandy to finish college with a huge debt. It’s just that working at two places is becoming too much. His job at the garage is extremely satisfying, he is good at it, and he doesn’t mind the dirt, smell or the grease. The bar isn’t bad either, even when he has to deal with stupid drunks and underage boys hitting on him. But together, it’s just a bit too much. Sometimes he doesn’t have time for a proper meal, and even more often than that he lacks strength to prepare anything nutritional. Sometimes it makes him think fondly of the past. Selling coke and weed didn’t require much effort, and beating up deadbeats was entertaining. He could do it in New York, he felt tempted more than once, but he knows it’s a path that leads only to jail and nowhere else. He doesn’t need to prove that he is a tough fucker to anyone, Terry was the only one who would ever see any glory in that, and he has no intention of seeing jail from the inside. He spends weekends watching movies, napping, working out and browsing the Internet, sometimes getting lost on Youtube and watching animal videos (his favourite are the ones with birds being funny).  
Mandy thinks he is boring, he’s heard her say that to Ian. His life isn’t very exciting anymore, but he is far happier than he was when he had to constantly fear for his life and run from cops every other day with pockets full of coke and illegal money.   
Mandy and Ian go out a lot, together and separately. They go shopping and visit museums (Mickey actually has his favourite museums, but they never asked him about it, so he keeps his mouth shut), they go out for lunches and go to the movies at least once a month. They do all the things young people like, and well, Mickey feels old. He could do these things, he just doesn’t want to. He likes his room, he is outside a lot during the week. Maybe it would be different if he wasn’t working so much, but it can’t be helped. 

Still, Jake is surprisingly persuasive, and Mickey goes to a shooting range with him. It might have something to do with the fact that Mickey really likes shooting. After, they have a dinner at Jake’s place with his older sister, and it’s another thing he doesn’t mind. Jake’s sister is brash, funny, and doesn’t take shit from anyone. A bit like Mandy. It takes Mickey two hours to realize that he is having fun. He isn’t even drunk when he gets home, three beers can’t get him tipsy.  
Ian is sitting in the living room, Ethan by his side.   
Mickey might not be drunk, but redhead definitely is judging from the way he is swaying; Ethan is no better.   
“Oooh, so you found your way out?” Gallagher asks innocently.  
“Tomorrow you’re going to regret drinking so much,” he mumbles, not really wanting to get into a discussion.   
“I pegged you as someone fun, but Ian says you’re not only dumb, but also boring. Pity,” Ethan contributes gleefully. “Well, apparently not in bed. Pretty feisty in bed, huh?”  
Ian giggles, almost falling off the couch. It’s pathetic.  
“I’d pound your ass the way you like it, if you weren’t such trash,” Ethan continues, unbothered by Ian’s presence.   
“America’s dirtiest white boy,” Gallagher finds himself very amusing.   
“You told him about us?” he ignores Ethan.  
“More like complained. And what ‘us’? You give me nothing Mickey, so what ‘us’?!” amusement is gone from Ian’s voice, and the older man feels lost. He has no idea what is going on, and why Gallagher would be pissed at him. He’s done nothing to deserve it.   
The problem is, he gets nervous around drunk, shouting people. He can’t help it. The lifetime of abuse left him with many scars, some of them visible, some not. It made him associate drunk, shouting people with immediate danger, even if it’s the woman who is shouting, and his first reaction is to run, to hide. He never does, he has enough control over his body, but his heart beats too fast, his breathing laboured. He shoves his hands into the pockets because they already start to shake, his vision blurs around the edges. His body can’t decide whether he wants to throw up or cry. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, but no less humiliating. He bets Ethan would laugh. Ian probably too. They have no idea what it’s like when you’re constantly abused, both physically and emotionally. It doesn’t go away just because you moved, and the tiniest things can set you off. He can deal with drunk people at a bar, but the second drunken shouting is directed at him, his mind goes into a panic mode, expecting blows or humiliation. Or both.   
Gallagher is saying something, but there is nothing that Mickey hasn’t heard, so he doesn’t even really register the words. It’s all white noise to him. He knows he is useless white trash, lowlife faggot, a waste of space and skin. There is nothing he can give to Ian, or anyone else, to make his life better, and he doesn’t deserve good things. Good things happen to good people, and Mickey is Southside. You can get a person out of Southside, but you can’t get Southside out of a person, at least that’s what people say. And they’re right, of course they are.   
“Fuck off,” is what he says to stop the verbal assault. “I thought you accepted your illness, so what are you doing drinking alcohol, huh? Fucking wimp.”  
He locks the door to his room and lies in the bed with a pillow covering his head. He is not going to cry. He tells himself he didn’t expect anything from Ian, but it’s a hard lie to believe even in his own head.

***

Ian throws up five times, the last one is mostly bile, but he still feels like shit. Partially because of the alcohol Ethan fed him, but mostly because of what he said to Mickey. He has no idea how he is going to face the older man, how he is going to fix things. What yesterday seemed like the greatest idea ever, today is one of the worst things he’s ever done in his life. He knows why he’s said all these things; it doesn’t make anything better. It makes everything worse, but he won’t admit it out loud. He could blame Ethan, who definitely is a part of a problem, but most of it is on him and his inability to be a decent human being.  
Somehow, he manages to avoid Mickey until Monday morning. He suspects it’s because Mick doesn’t want to see him either. But on Monday morning they meet in the kitchen, and Ian braces himself for a shouting match, so he is surprised when Mickey doesn’t react. At all. The older man greets him quietly, but then doesn’t say anything else and refuses to look at him, quickly finishing his breakfast and leaving.  
Ian waits, and waits, and waits until he realizes, that there won’t be a big fight. There will be nothing because Mickey decided to completely shut him out.  
No friendly banter, no getting high together, no playing games, no fucking. Nothing. There is only one month left before the end of the academic year, but Ian planned on staying. Mandy is going back to Chicago for the summer vacation, so it would be a great opportunity, they wouldn’t have to hide, the whole flat would be theirs only.  
But Ian fucked up so bad that Mickey prefers to stay holed up in his room, not even venturing out to the living room because Ian can be there. Ian runs away, he is good at that. When the time comes he goes back to Chicago with Mandy. Maybe it’s for the best. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey isn't doing well, not that he will ever accept that. Ian's head is still a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you disliked Ian.  
> When I was revising this chapter I realized two things:  
> a) I need Mickey in tiny shorts (like the ones Ian wore), and no one is going to stop me. Mickey has way more ass, and it had to happen  
> b) Mickey is acting quite self-destructive, how could I not notice? I wrote him, eh. But I guess it kind of makes sense. 
> 
> Please like/comment if you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
>  

The flat is quiet again. It’s okay, Mickey knows quiet. Mickey knows alone. Maybe it takes him a bit too much time to adjust to the silence that once again fills his flat, but it’s not a big deal. There is no loud music booming from Mandy’s room, no crying over especially difficult textbooks and no laughing from being tickled until either Ian or Mandy cries real tears. He wakes up to the sound of silence, goes to sleep with it. TV sounds obnoxiously loud in an empty apartment, and that’s just ridiculous. He’s been alone before, he’s been more than fine with it. But maybe once you’ve had a taste of something it becomes extremely difficult to just revert to old habits, even if it’s only for a while. He doesn’t like thinking about it, and it’s not like he is lonely without Mandy. Or Gallagher. He’s just alone.  
Mandy texts him from time to time, sharing little snippets from her life in Chicago. There is nothing from Ian, not that he expects anything. Ian took what he wanted for as long as it was convenient, and then broke it off, just like Mickey predicted he would. Nothing to cry about. There is a bit of disappointment, some lingering resentment because sometimes Mickey allows himself to be hopeful, but he probably shouldn’t. He isn’t a great judge of character, apparently.  
He goes to the garage, gets home, showers, eats, goes to the bar, gets home, showers, then rinse and repeat. Boring, predictable, him. Weekends are slightly less boring because Jake (and sometimes his sister Anna) has an uncanny ability to persuade Mickey to do things with him. They don’t always go out, but staying at home can be equally entertaining, something Ian couldn’t understand.  
He almost quits the bartending job because Jason, the little bitch, decides that bartenders have to wear booty shorts instead of tight pants that already were over the top, and some make up as well. They fuck it out in the office, but Jason still makes him wear tiny black shorts in turns with black, glittery ones because it’s supposed to be good for business. Mickey has to begrudgingly admit he is right. The dancers are still the main attraction, but there is plenty of men who want someone supposedly harder to get (it’s bullshit, some of them bend over before the guys can even form a proper question). It doesn’t mean Mickey enjoys the way the material clings to his ass and dick, or the way some clients ogle or try to grab him. He has to punch few of them because they try to corner him, hands flying all over his body, pushing between his buttocks. One of them actually manages to pin him to the wall to rut against him before Mickey breaks his nose, enjoying the crunching sound it makes under his fist.  
Jake has a lot of fun with the new attire, whistling every time Mickey turns around to reach for a bottle. Because Jake likes to hang out at the bar, and Mickey has a hard time wrapping his head around it. What straight guy would willingly hang out in a gay bar? Jake, apparently. He also bonds with Jason over Mickey’s misery.  
Booty shorts are, sometimes literal, pain in the ass, but the tips are so much better, and getting someone to pound him is even easier.

***

Mickey gets fag bashed on a fine, warm evening at the end of the summer. He is getting home from yet another late shift, too tired to properly see when someone bumps into him, street away from his flat. He decides against reacting, but isn’t given much choice when a fist slams into his face. He learns that he is a dirty fag, that no one wants to see him sucking faces with other faggots, and that he will have faggotry beaten out of him. He almost laughs at that. He thinks he recognizes the guy from few months ago when Ian tongue fucked him against a wall when they were coming back from the club. The guy shouted at them then, but they were too busy to care.  
Normally Mickey would be able to take the guy down, but he is tired, and the guy isn’t alone. There are two other men with him, one of them has a baseball bat. He still manages to throw some punches and draw blood, but he knows that with his compact body he doesn’t stand a chance against three big guys. Running isn’t an option either, they know what they’re doing, not leaving any gaps for him to escape through. It isn’t the worst beating he’s had (his father’s beatings still take the cake), but it reminds him that it’s not only Chicago that breeds homophobic, judgmental pricks. New York might be big and fancy, but it has its share of lowlifes.  
He wakes up in the hospital with a mild concussion, three ribs and nose broken. His face and stomach are mostly black with a hint of blue accentuated by the light shade of yellow. He wonders who cared enough to call for the ambulance. People usually mind their own business. There were some studies about people getting beaten up on crowded streets, weren’t there? It doesn’t matter, he is glad someone helped him. Jason’s hands shake so much when he comes to pick Mickey up that they spend fifteen minutes in the parking lot, waiting for shaking to subside. Mickey tries to tell him that it looks worse than it really is, but Jason just glares at him.  
“It doesn’t matter whether it’s bad or not. It shouldn’t have happened,” and Mickey can’t exactly argue with that. He didn’t really think that both of his bosses liked him so much, but it seems to be this way since he gets a week off from both of his jobs, fully paid, to heal a bit. And Jason frets over him, which should be annoying, but Mickey doesn’t have enough strength to do anything about it. Jake is there too, seemingly really relaxed about the whole thing, but his eyes are sharp and angry, like never before, his lips bitten raw.  
Mickey tells Lana on his own, not strong enough to endure the Russian wrath, and she comes over with some comfort food, and Yev smiles at Mickey, bright and happy that the man is holding him. Mickey realizes that somehow, along the way, he managed to make friends; that there are people who care about him not because they are family or because they want to fuck him, but because they genuinely like him. It’s odd and overwhelming. He isn’t prepared for this, but he isn’t given any choice which, surprisingly, makes everything easier to accept. He just rolls with it, even when Jake insists on staying over. Mickey never let Ian spend the whole night in his bed, but things are different with Jake.

He still looks like a very ripe, inedible plum when Ian and Mandy come back. He actually managed to forget about them, his life has been busy enough without the two. He can hear them bickering in the kitchen, and he doesn’t particularly want to see them, but he will have to sooner or later, so he decides to just get over with it. He is so quiet they don’t even notice him at first, and he can observe them freely. Mandy’s hair is slightly shorter and the highlights are missing, on the other hand Ian’s hair is longer than before, with shaved sides. Mickey has the same haircut, but he doesn’t think much of it. It’s popular with guys.  
They look good, slightly tanned and happy. Mickey’s own happiness, well maybe not happiness but contentment, evaporates. He feels colourless in comparison (he can even tan, he just burns, ends up looking like a lobster). He opens the fridge, just to have something to do with his hands and notify them of his presence at the same time.  
“Mickey, hey!” Mandy almost shouts, too loud for the small kitchen, laughter filling her voice. It’s a beautiful sound. When he turns to face them everything stops. Their smiles slowly disappear, replaced with shock.  
“What… what happened? Did you get in a fight? Are you reliving your Southside days?” his sister sounds angry.  
“Yeah, no.”  
“What then?” He just shakes his head, but Mandy presses until he tells them. Not the whole truth, the abridged version, just that he got jumped. Ian winces when Mickey talks about his injuries and reaches out as if he wants to touch the bruised skin. The older man casually takes a step back, out of Gallagher’s reach. It wouldn’t look suspicious to the outsider, Mandy doesn’t notice, but Ian seems to understand. His hands curl into fists, and he doesn’t say anything to Mickey for the rest of the night, but he stares.

Someone is knocking like he wants to break the door, so Ian almost runs to open it. He is 99% sure Mickey is sleeping, and the older man definitely needs as much sleep as he can get. The bruises he is sporting are so nasty that Ian hurts just from looking at them.  
He finds a guy by the door. His face seems familiar, but Ian can’t place it. Work? Some party? Old one night stand?  
“Mickey there?” the guy asks and then enters without waiting for Ian’s answer, shouldering past the redhead.  
“Uh, yeah. Sleeping.”  
“Good, he should sleep a lot. I’ll wait.”  
“Who the hell are you?” Ian asks, irritated.  
“Jake. Mick’s friend.”  
“Mickey has friends?” Jake stares at him, opens mouth to say something, closes it and then stares some more, looking like a dumb fish.  
“Sure he does. He’s got Anna, that’s my sister, and me. Jason and Lana.”  
“Huh.”  
“And you’re the infamous flatmate,” Jake’s smile is wide and threatening, not a hint of humor in it. He looks like an angry predator.  
“Infamous?”  
“Fuck ‘em, bring ‘em down, move on, right?” so Mickey told Jake. Mandy doesn’t know, but he told some random asshole. Ian grinds his teeth, unsure what to say. Is there even anything left to say? Mandy saves him by popping out from the kitchen with a wooden spatula in one hand.  
“Ian, you’re supposed to be helping! And hi stranger.”  
“Jake.”  
“Stranger Jake. Whatcha doing here?”  
They move to the kitchen because Ian really is supposed to help her cook. It needs to be both of them because while Mickey is a pretty decent cook, they are mediocre at best, and the quality of food they prepare is often questionable. Together, they manage to make stuff edible enough.  
“I’m here for Mick, I’ll wait.”  
“Cool. You want to tell me what happened to him?”  
“He hasn’t told you?”  
“He did. But I know he is hiding something,” Mandy rolls her eyes, “so spill.”  
Jake growls, taking both of them by surprise.  
“I will tell you only because it’s fucking bullshit. Some dude saw him kiss a guy weeks ago, apparently they just flipped him off and then ignored.”  
“Was it Jason with Mickey?”  
“No, some other guy,” Jake answers Mandy, but his eyes never leave Ian. “Anyway, the asshole didn’t forget, and when he saw Mickey again he went off on him. It would be cool if the fuckward was alone, Mickey would deal, but no. That sad excuse for a dude had two friends with him and a baseball bat. Beat the shit out of Mick.”  
“So it was gay bashing?”  
“Yeah. If I ever get my hands on that trash…” he doesn’t need to finish. Ian wants to hurl. Jake knows it’s Ian Mickey’s been kissing, probably knows that Ian basically forced the older man to make out with him on a quite busy street. He isn’t the one who hit Mickey, but it’s his fault all the same. Jake knows and hates him for it. Ian kind of hates himself for it too.  
Rich, gay friends made him feel safe. Nothing bad happens in lofts and penthouses, or in upscale clubs they like to go to. And it lulled his sense of survival, made him forget that what his friends have is not for everyone. That even in New York you could get killed for loving the wrong way (it’s not wrong, it isn’t, he refuses to think like that). He forgot, and Mickey has to pay for his imprudence.  
“You’re gay?” Mandy is as subtle as a brick to the face.  
“Nah. I mean. Nah. But I think there could be something between Mick and me. He is, well, great.” Ian flinches while Jake looks at him challengingly. “Actually, I’m taking him out on a date tomorrow.”  
Jake spends the night. Jake spends the night in Mickey’s room. Sleeps in his bed. Ian knows because he spies on them. They’re not spooning, but Mickey is lying on his back while Jake is on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow, their shoulders touching, not too intimate but comfortable. Ian almost bites through his lip, jealousy burning in his veins, making him see red. He has no right, no right at all, but it doesn’t matter, Mickey might not be his, but he definitely isn’t Jake’s either. Jake is too much of a wimp to handle Mick.

“You have to resort to fucking straight guys to avoid creating emotional bonds?” Mickey almost wishes Ian was drunk. At least it would explain the unnecessarily harsh words. But the younger man smells like cologne, not even a hint of alcohol on his breath, just freshness of a mint. Mickey chooses not to acknowledge the redhead, his mood too good from his ‘date’ with Jake. His friend insisted on calling it like that, even though they both know that dating is not an option, mostly because Jake is hopelessly heterosexual. They made out once, out of curiosity, but Jake’s dick didn’t even twitch when Mickey ground his ass against it. No dating for them.  
Mickey has never really seen Ian being openly hostile towards another person (apart from himself), the redhead can be sarcastic, but he is good at pretending, a great actor indeed. But not around Jake. He is rude around Jake, always scowling and snarling, like he isn’t able to control his reactions. Mickey’s friend is no better, but it’s a defense mechanism. Besides, Jake _knows _and even though Milkovich tried to tell him that his anger is unwarranted and misplaced, it didn’t work. Jake is too strong headed to listen.__  
His flatmate and his friend are acting like they’re trying to establish who is the biggest cock around. Mickey thinks it’s kind of funny (mostly because he chooses to ignore reasoning behind their behaviour), but Mandy can’t stand their bickering. She doesn’t get it, Ian is her best friend, and she likes Jake even if they don’t spend much time together. It makes Mickey want to tell her, but he figures it would be unfair to Ian. And he would seem spiteful, like he is trying to get revenge, which he isn’t. There is nothing to be sour about.  
He lets Mandy come to his room, smoke his weed, bitch about Jake vs. Ian, and tries his best not to act suspicious. It’s not that difficult seeing as no one really expects him to talk a lot.

____

***

Ian should know better. He _knows_ better, yet he still comes to Mickey’s bar. He can pretend it’s for the boys, but it really isn’t. There are other gay bars, he doesn’t have to visit this one, but he must be a bit of a masochist, as well as a sadist because Mickey’s face, when he shows up unannounced, looks anything but happy. He orders juice, and the older man says nothing, quickly preparing his order and moving on to another patron. Ian feels like he’s been punched when he sees what Mickey is wearing. Tiny, black shorts cling to his perfect ass, and Ian’s dick is instantly hard. God, he is so shallow.  
“Never pegged you for an asshole,” Jason says conversationally, sitting next to him. “Though you are really ginger, so I probably should have known. Your soul got lost somewhere, right?”  
“Fuck off,” he says off-handedly, not feeling it.  
“You really have no right to ogle him.”  
“Whatever. His shorts are fucking tiny, hard not to look at his ass.”  
“I know,” Jason says dreamily. “It’s great for business, they are all wanking over his tight ass. I do too. Don’t tell him I said that.”  
“Jesus,” Ian mutters disgusted, conveniently overlooking the fact that his own cock is more than interested, as happy about the shorts as any other horny bastard in the bar, almost wet with it.  
“I see you causing problems or trying to fuck him over again, I will rip you a new one,’ Jason’s tone doesn’t change, but he still manages to sound threatening. Ian just grunts and goes back to watching other guys drool over Mickey. One of them is old, too old for Mick, but he somehow manages to get the bartender’s attention. Ian watches the interaction, and the way Mickey’s face changes from angry to confused, to considering.

Mickey knows their customers fantasize and masturbate while thinking about them. They tell him about it when they’re too drunk to stand, almost unconscious, no longer able to hold their tongues. It’s amusing in a disgusting way, he’d appreciate it a lot more if they weren’t talking about him, and he can always pretend they don’t mean it because they had too much to drink. This guy though. This old guy in a young man’s shirt, old enough to be his father or even a grandfather, he isn’t even tipsy. And yet he propositions Mickey. Not even that. He makes an offer which involves money. Mickey wouldn’t even have to do anything, just bend over and let the guy rub against his clothed ass, come on it. The guy makes it sound reasonable. The thought makes him throw up in his mouth a bit, but it’s 500 bucks, and Mandy has been whining about a new laptop for a while. If he does this, he won’t have to take much from his savings. But the offer makes him really nauseous, the old guy may be in Gallagher’s age range, not his. It’s also prostitution, so there is that. He is supposed to watch over the dancers to make sure they don’t fuck customers for money at work, and yet.  
He considers it.  
It’s easy money. Easier than stealing something, easier than dealing drugs. Easier than picking up few more hours. He won’t be naked, won’t be fucked. Fuck it. If it means that he will be a hypocrite, then so be it, Mandy will have the new laptop she dreams of, he will keep money in his pocket. He nods and goes back to making drinks, ignoring Gallagher’s questioning look.  
When they finally go to the back room the old guy is really fucking polite for someone who intends to get off against Mickey’s ass, doesn’t push him, lets him bend over on his own. Mickey squeezes his eyes shut when he hears the shuffling sound of the guy opening his trousers. He doesn’t need, or want, to know the name. The guy doesn’t offer.  
He recognizes the slick sound of skin moving on skin, just a few jerks, and then there is a dick pressed against his ass. It’s on a small side which for some reason makes him relieved. It starts easy, the touches are slow and light, and he relaxes, thinking about the upcoming weekend. He intends to stay at home, drink cold beer and watch dumb movies until he passes out. The shove comes when he is considering doing the laundry tomorrow instead of on Saturday to have the whole weekend free of any responsibilities.  
The man is gripping his hips now, his cock rock hard between Mickey’s buttocks, pressing against his hole. The material is wet with the old guy’s precome, and his pushes are brutal. Mickey’s hips painfully connect with the table he is bending over, so he hisses loudly, but the man ignores him. It feels like he is trying to fuck Mickey through the material. It never felt as thin as now, when the fat cockhead nearly breaches him.  
Mickey tries to breathe evenly, he just needs to wait it out. It won’t last long, he keeps repeating to himself when the pressure against his opening almost makes him gasp in disgust. Fifteen minutes feel like hours, but then there is a repulsive moan behind him and suddenly his shorts are covered in come. The guy fondles his dick quickly, and then slaps his ass before Mickey can react, but there are 500 dollars on the table, so he just jerks away with a scowl.  
“If you tell anyone about it I will kill you.”  
“Easy boy, I’m here for business, going back to Cali tomorrow.” Mickey glares at him until he leaves, and then changes into clean shorts. They are glittery, but the plain black ones are soiled with the guy’s release, glitter is much better than that.

It doesn’t take much brain power to guess what happened in the backroom, especially since the guy left with a creepy, satisfied smile on his face, and Mickey is wearing a different pair of shorts. Ian takes a second to appreciate the way glitter looks like a gathering of stars on the older man’s shapely backside. He wants to talk to Mickey, but he realizes it probably isn’t best time, with other patrons around. With Jason trying to engage Mick all the time. With Mick blatantly ignoring him.  
He waits patiently, although he isn’t a very patient person by nature. Maybe it’s time for him to learn, maybe it’s a part of growing up he still has to do.  
He waits until Mickey’s shift is over, and they head home together. Together means that Ian follows the other man like a puppy while Mick glares at him if he gets too close. It’s not unexpected, but it makes Ian’s insides cold.  
“I thought you didn’t fuck geriatric viagroids? I thought it was my job?” it comes out sarcastic. Judgmental. It’s not how he means it.  
“What are you talking about Gallagher?”  
“The old dude that followed you to the backroom. You fucked. You changed your shorts. Did he rip them while he was fucking you?”  
“How is that any of your business?”  
“It isn’t, just curious.” Mickey seems unnecessarily nervous, God knows Ian can’t really judge his taste in men or his choices. Unless…  
“How much did you get?”  
“Fuck off.”  
“How much, Mick.”  
“500 bucks.”  
“Holy shit. You were there what, 20 minutes? You let him put a fist in you with no preparation or what?”  
“Fuck you and no, he didn’t fuck me. Just rubbed against my ass and shit.”  
“I know your ass is good, but that’s a bit excessive. Why would you do that?”  
“Mandy wants this fancy new laptop, doesn’t she?” Ian feels a sudden burst of sadness and pain, because the rough thug he prefers to see can be so selfless, and Ian fucked him over in the worst way possible. Ethan convinced him that his flatmate was being rude and inconsiderate, but he is slowly coming to terms with the fact that just because Mick isn’t good with words it doesn’t mean he is the bad guy here. He wants to kiss Mickey’s pink lips to erase everything, but he is sure it will earn him a broken bone. He settles on muttering, “You’re a good brother”.  
Hours later Ian finds Mickey’s soiled shorts on top of the laundry basket. The older man must have forgotten about them, because it’s hard to imagine he wants Mandy to find them, and Ian disturbs even himself by vehemently washing the tiny piece of clothing, trying to get rid of the crusted come. Washing some guy’s spunk off his ex-something’s underwear? Definitely in top 10 of freaky, disgusting things he’s done. Mickey is not going to appreciate this, at all, but in some weird way it makes Ian feel better about everything that happened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is finally getting his shit together, Mickey is a master of bad decisions, or so he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post today instead of tomorrow 'cause work's been a bitch recently, so not sure if I would have any strength left tomorrow.  
> Also, Gallavich is making me sad again :(
> 
> Like/comment for the silly birds! (and thank you so much for all the lovely comments!)  
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Mickey is buzzed enough that his inhibitions are already lowered, he isn’t drunk yet, but it’s enough to make him forget (ignore) why being around Ian is a bad idea that will have even worse consequences. He came from the bar to find Ian sitting on a couch, watching some dumb show. Gallagher looked up with a smile, but his grin slowly slipped off when he saw Mickey. They aren’t on best terms anymore.  
Alcohol makes him less cautious, so instead of going to his room Mickey sits next to his flatmate, close enough to touch, barely pretending to be interested in what’s playing. When the screen turns really bright making Ian’s hair look like it’s on fire, Mickey doesn’t even hesitate before running his fingers through the burning locks. They’re soft, soft, soft, and he knows for a fact that they smell nice too.  
“Mick,” Ian murmurs, sounding choked and hopeful.  
“You washed my fucking shorts.”  
One second they’re looking at each other, and another the older man is sitting in Ian’s lap, grinding against him. He missed this, Ian’s big hands holding his hips like a vice, devouring kisses and huge, hard, perfect cock. Mickey’s lips are swollen and feel tender from redhead’s assault by the time he is sitting on Ian’s dick, riding it. He doesn’t remember how that happened.  
“Don’t fucking move,” he hisses when Ian tries to fuck into him. There is a dumbfounded look on Gallagher’s face, but he obeys.  
Mickey takes his pleasure, bearing down hard and fast, enjoying the stretch. It’s too much, hand lotion makes bad lube, one finger hardly counts as preparation, and he didn’t have a dick this big in quite some time, but the pain makes him even more determined. He knows he is moaning like a bitch, and he doesn’t give a fuck. It’s too good, _God how he missed this_.  
He is a bitch, bouncing on Ian’s thick cock, legs burning from exertion, licking off the sweat collecting on red’s collarbones and sucking his nipples until Ian whines and drags him up for a wet kiss. Gallagher’s hips stay put, but his tongue fucks Mickey’s mouth harshly, dominating him. The older man leans back, braces himself on Ian’s knees and loses every ounce of control he’s had, hips jerking in a fast, uneven rhythm. He comes with a wail, come hitting his chest and chin.  
Ian flips them over when Mickey is too out of it to protest, and continues fucking just as fast, chasing his orgasm. Mickey should say something, he is oversensitive, and the redhead’s dick keeps rubbing against his prostate, but he doesn’t. He knows Ian is turned on by him crying during sex, so he sobs openly when things get particularly rough. _Yeah, you’re so good, my good boy_ , Ian chants into his mouth. He clenches his muscles, milking Ian’s dick when the younger man finally comes with a last, brutal thrust.  
There is come leaking out of his abused ass when Ian pulls out because condoms were not a priority when they started. Mickey feels slightly nauseous now, no post-sex bliss for him, just harsh reality of what he’s done. He should be stronger than that, he should be able to stay away. Gallagher’s come slides down his thighs when he stands up. Humiliating.  
Ian tries to say something, touches his arm, but Mickey just shrugs him off.  
“It was a mistake, won’t happen again,” he says, not meeting Gallagher’s eyes.  
“Fuck you Mickey, you can’t just decide…”  
“I can, I did. What’re you gonna do, huh? Force yourself on me again?”  
Ian takes a step back, ashamed, and it makes Mickey feel good for a second.

***

“Did Mickey tell you that Ethan keeps showing up when you’re not here?” Mandy asks cautiously while they’re playing Halo.  
That’s news to him.  
“He does? What for?”  
“Uh. I think he really wants to screw Mickey,” Mandy’s nose scrunches in disgust since it’s her brother they’re talking about. She doesn’t want to think about other guys finding her brother attractive.  
“What? I, what?” Ian feels, and sounds, like a broken record.  
“Yeah, I was there few times, and then I talked to Mick about it. This dude just doesn’t take no for an answer.”  
Ian sees red, literally. Mandy is saying something, but he can’t hear her over the sound of blood pumping through his veins. He is half way to Ethan’s place before he is able to create a coherent thought.  
Ethan offered him a place to stay before, so that Ian would be staying somewhere classy, not with the likes of Mickey (and, presumably, Mandy as well). Ian considered the offer even though there was no way he would be able to afford half a rent with what he earns. But he considered it anyway, because Ethan seemed to care about him. It always was Ian’s problem. Someone showed him a little bit of affection, threw him a tiny scrap of it, and Ian was ready to jump under a train for him. Ethan was good at sounding sincere, fooled him into thinking it was for Ian’s sake. Learning that he just wanted Ian gone from the Milkovich flat so that he could have his way with Mickey is worse than a punch in the gut. It was a good plan, not brilliant, but good enough for Ian to almost fall for.  
As he stands waiting for Ethan to open the door it dawns on him that he is going to lose a friend. No, not just one friend, a whole group of friends because other guys are, for some unknown reason, loyal to this elitist asshole (maybe they’re all the same). But even if it weren’t about Mickey, Ian is tired of being jerked around and lied to, it took him a long time, but now he knows he deserves better.  
Ethan looks stupidly good for someone who apparently was asleep just few minutes ago.  
“Why do you keep pestering Mick?” there is no place for pleasantries.  
“I have no idea what…”  
“Spare me, I know, Mands told me. Why? You called him a useless, dirty lowlife that you wouldn’t be caught dead talking to. He insulted you.”  
“I know, but he is really fucking hot. It’s like an obsession, I guess. To have some dirt on me from time to time. You told me how good he is at taking dick. I would never introduce him to, well, anyone, but I can’t wait to fuck him,” Ethan is smirking, full of himself. “You’re done with him anyway, what do you care?”  
“You lied to me, did everything you could to break what I had with Mick. And you only offered me a flat so that I wouldn’t be there when you came to see him.” The smile slowly slips off Ethan’s face.  
“No, man…”  
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” He doesn’t break any of Ethan’s bones. He manages to hurt him anyway, getting blood all over the pristine white t-shirt.

Three strong drinks later he is curled on Mandy’s bed, knuckles bruised and stomach already revolting. Mandy doesn’t say anything, but he can feel her judgmental look on top of his head. She is humming what sounds like a lullaby, he would never suspect her of knowing one. He is sure Mickey knows no lullabies, there is no place for them in the Southside of Chicago. He makes himself sad with this thought, and he has to blink away the tears already gathering in his eyes. It’s the alcohol’s fault, he tells himself.  
Mandy huffs when he lies with his head on her lap, but lets him do it anyway. Her fingers comb through his hair soothingly. Ian knows she is waiting, and she deserves to know. He wants her to know. It seems that Mandy is his only real friend, and recently he’s been a really shitty best friend. Scratch that, he’s been a shitty human being to everyone but himself.  
He feels strangely disconnected when he finally starts talking, like it’s not his story. It’s not very long or very good. Mandy’s voice hitches when he tells her how he fucked Mickey for the first time, she laughs quietly when he tells her about getting to know the older Milkovich, and snorts disbelievingly when he recalls how helpful Mickey was when Ian was sick, she wasn’t there to see it after all. Then she probably rips out a good chunk of his hair with how hard she yanks his hair when Ian describes their, for lack of better word, break up. He is crying now, fat drops rolling down his face, soaking into Mandy’s skirt.  
“Have you tried apologizing to him? Like, with words?” his friend asks, her voice clipped.  
“What’s the point?” Mickey doesn’t seem like a forgiving person, but then again Ian has been wrong about him before.  
“You don’t deserve my brother. If you weren’t my friend, and I didn’t know how fucked up you are, I would cut your dick off with the smallest, bluntest knife possible. You don’t deserve him,” she says matter-of-factly, “but the least you can do is apologize to him.”  
“I will.”  
“I hate you right now. I’m not sure I want you to live here anymore. I will talk to Mick, see what he thinks.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Yeah. I… We will talk tomorrow, my feelings are all over the place right now, so. Tomorrow. Go and sleep off your bad decisions.”  
“Night, Mands.”  
Ian doesn’t sleep much, too busy throwing up. The more sober he gets, the more he regrets telling Mandy. Because now he has to talk to Mickey, has to admit that he was the one who was wrong. He knows it’s going to make him wish for forgiveness, he can already feel a small sparks of hope.

After the memorable fuck on the couch Mickey manages to be even more elusive, and Ian ends up cornering him in the bathroom, which probably isn’t the best place considering their past. The images of a weakened, vulnerable Mickey flash through his mind, and he has a semi within seconds.  
“I talked to Mandy, and…” he dives headfirst into it, no point in delaying the inevitable.  
“Yeah, I know. She asked if I wanted you out,” Mickey interrupts him, already chewing on his lower lip.  
“Do you?” the other man just shrugs, staring at their bare feet.  
“I wanted to apologize. Properly this time. I fucked up, said a lot of stuff I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry.”  
“You don’t need to apologize for the truth, man. It’s whatever.”  
“It isn’t, Mick. And I didn’t mean it, Ethan’s been goading me on, I had too much to drink, and I haven’t been feeling so well at the time.”  
“You are seriously going to blame it on your disorder?” Mickey finally looks at him, eyebrows cocked.  
“No, shit, no. It’s just. I had these thoughts, felt insecure about stuff, thought acting tough would help. And that’s all on me, I’m sorry I hurt you in the process.”  
“It’s fine,” the older man mutters. It’s surprisingly easy, he doesn’t even seem angry.  
“I thought we could maybe try to be friends again?”  
“We haven’t been friends, you started hanging out with me after I let you fuck me.”  
“No, you did that. I tried before, and you ignored me every time.” Mickey just shrugs again, and it doesn’t feel like a victory anymore, but Ian is determined not to give up and fix things with both Milkovich siblings.

Mandy is relatively easy. She can be vicious, and she does smack him a bit, but she has a soft spot for Ian which he shamelessly uses. Maybe it’s so easy because she doesn’t really want to lose him. He buys the beer she likes, smokes some high quality weed with her and then takes her shopping. All the groveling he is throwing in doesn’t hurt either. By the end of second week there is no hard feelings between them when they hang out, but she says she doesn’t want him around Mickey any more than it’s necessary, and Ian grinds his teeth in frustration he has no right to feel.  
But they have different schedules, Mandy goes out a lot, so she can’t control him while she is not there. Ian initiates contact with the older Milkovich every chance he gets while trying not to be too obtrusive. Mickey is hardly welcoming, and then there is this underlying tension, but he more or less answers when asked questions, and he even laughs at Ian’s lame jokes, even if he keeps looking at the younger man a bit anxiously.  
Jake is his unlikely, and unaware, ally. They hate each other with passion, but Mickey is relaxed around Jake, and while Ian doesn’t sit or go out with them, he gets to listen while they make plans or simply chat. It’s creepy, but it’s not the creepiest thing he’s done, so it doesn’t bother him much. What bothers him is the jealousy flaring up in his chest, making it difficult to breathe, every time Jake puts his hand around Mickey or when the older man laughs so hard his whole body shakes.  
Ian has to grudgingly admit that Jake is good for Mickey. He pushes Milkovich, but never too far. They seem to enjoy same things, and Jake is great at compromising when they disagree on something. They are relaxed around each other, and it’s the sort of ease that doesn’t come from the physical relationship. Ian knows how to suck Mickey’s dick to make him keen, and how to drive him crazy with simple strokes, but Jake knows how to calm him down when he is agitated, knows how to cheer him up when he pretends not to be sad. Jake _can actually tell_ when Mickey is sad, something Ian never thought was possible with the tough mask that Mick constantly keeps in place.  
He notices these things now that he decided to become better. It also makes him notice things that he didn’t really want to realize. That he is more egoistic than he thought. Back in Chicago Fiona always told him that he was the best of them, better than Lip even, who has brains, but not enough moral compass to go with it. And Ian kind of agreed with her while bashfully pretending he didn’t.  
He thinks back on his actions towards Mickey, and realizes that almost everything he did was for his own, personal pleasure. He fooled himself into thinking that he was giving the older man so much, but really. He didn’t do much apart from fucking Mickey stupid, but that’s something anyone with, or even without, a cock can do. 

Ian’s friends are almost all gone, he only has Mandy and some of her friends now. After Ethan, just like he predicted others turned their back on him, finally seeing him for what he is, understanding that he will never be one of them. Ian wants to feel sad about it, but deep down he knows he wouldn’t be happy pretending to be like them. He enjoys some of the sophisticated things they introduced him to, but he likes his beer cheap, and his movies van Damme, not von Trier style.  
Mandy is happier now, she confesses that she disliked Ethan, who looked down on her because she is a girl. Ian feels ashamed for not noticing before, but Mandy just laughs and drags him to Mickey’s bar because she enjoys watching dancers there, and they seem to like her back. They even let her pinch their butts from time to time, probably because there is nothing sexual about that.  
Ian finds himself liking Jason, who is almost always around. Jake’s obvious dislike for him made him wary of Mickey’s other friends, but Jason is nice. He still threatens to break Ian’s hands if something similar happens again, but he is far more understanding and forgiving. His only flaw seems to be the fact that he still fucks Mickey, Ian turns the other way when they disappear in the backroom. One of the dancers shakes his ass at Ian any time he can, and he is a pretty thing. Barely legal, quite tiny with big, hazel eyes. Ian doesn’t even feel tempted, something Mandy laughs at him for. Mandy is a bit of a slut (and so is he, usually).  
Jason brings them free beer, and thanks to him Ian learns a lot about Mickey too, because Jason can easily engage the black haired man in a discussion about anything he wants. Ian is comfortable just sitting there, listening.  
He starts sending Mickey silly bird videos because he notices the way the older man smiles when he sees even the most ordinary birds, like pigeons or sparrows. He doesn’t do the same when there is a cat or a dog nearby, so Ian spends hours on Youtube looking for cute birds and enjoys every minute of it. Not only because he thinks about Mickey, but because birds are entertaining in a way the other animals are not. He adds short notes in his messages to Mickey, commenting on the parts he likes best. And the other man doesn’t really say anything when they see each other, but the small, almost invisible smile betrays him. Ian beams with pride every time, feeling giddy like a teenager with a crush.

***

Mandy is ecstatic when Mickey gives her a new laptop and doesn’t even try to play it cool. She hugs him tightly, and ignores his bitching when he tries to shrug her off. They end up in her room, smoking weed, eating junk food and watching dumb movies. Mandy smiles every time her eyes meet his, and he just scowls, secretly pleased. He doesn’t regret the little prostitution stunt he pulled if that’s what it gets him. Mandy’s life is much better than his, but there is something about his sister that makes him want to give her everything best. He never felt the same about his brothers, maybe because they are older than him or maybe because they are fucking assholes. Mandy can be a rude bitch sometimes, but they have each other’s backs and that’s something no one else can give him.  
Every time one of them moves there is a rustle of candy wrappers which makes Mandy giggle. Mickey has no recollection of inhaling so many sweets, but his mind is a bit hazy, and he does feel quite full, so they must have eaten them at some point of their micro party. They are halfway through the second movie when Mandy elbows him in the side to get his attention, but then starts speaking before he can even look at her. Rude bitch.  
“I think Ian is trying to woo you. With silly bird videos and stuff.”  
“Hey, they are not silly.”  
“Oh yeah? And the one with this huge raven saying ‘say nevermore’?”  
Mickey starts laughing because okay, this one is a bit silly. It’s kind of obvious that the bird wouldn’t be able to distinguish which word it’s supposed to repeat. And then there is the ‘wakka wakka wakka’ thing the bird says, Mickey is gone every time he watches it.  
“But anyway, Ian is trying to do the thing.”  
“He said he wants to be friends.”  
“Uh huh. Sure. He wants to dick you again.”  
Mickey just shrugs, there is nothing he can say, really. He misses Gallagher’s dick a bit, it is huge and hits all the right places, but he isn’t sure he wants their arrangement back. Nothing has changed, he is still the same thug he’s been before, and he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened between them. It’s bad enough that he gave in once and fucked Gallagher on the couch.  
“I still hate him for what he’s done,” Mandy admits quietly, “but it seems that he is trying. That’s nice. He doesn’t hang out with Ethan and other assholes anymore. But the whole fuck buddies thing won’t work, I think he knows that. Maybe he wants a relationship?”  
“Yeah? And what can I offer him that no one else can? Every gay dude in every gay bar in the whole fucking world can give him the exact same things that I do.”  
Mandy wants to argue, it’s in her blood to argue about every single thing with him, so he shuts her up with a small snickers bar. They don’t talk for the rest of the evening, but Mandy keeps close to him, offering silent support. He would like to say he doesn’t need it. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian finally appreciates Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more chapters left, probably.  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos, they motivate me even when I'm tired :)

Mickey’s blood runs down the bonnet of the car on which he has been working. One second he is perfectly fine, then something wet hits his lips, and the familiar metallic taste assaults him. He would appreciate the dramatics if he was into things like that. Instead, he leans over the car letting the blood run freely, he doesn’t have a clean rag to stop the bleeding. Getting grease all over his face isn’t fun, he learned it the hard way, and adding it to blood can only make it worse. One of his coworkers’ hands appears in his line of sight with a wad of toilet paper, so he grunts his thanks and proceeds to wait it out. He hates to admit that it makes him slightly dizzy, but his boss notices, so he is allowed to leave early with a promise to visit a doctor since it might be something serious. Embarrassing is what it is, and he obviously doesn’t go to the doctor.  
The next time it happens he is on a break, getting a blow job from Jason. He doesn’t even notice, too busy having his brain sucked out through the dick. It’s Jason’s gasp and careful fingers touching his jaw that clue him in, and he gets another day off with yet another order to see a doctor. He nods and forgets about it until the third time.  
The third time he is eating breakfast with Mandy and Ian, and blood just starts dripping on his plate, getting all over his food which is plain disgusting. Mandy tells him to lay off coke while carefully cleaning up the mess he is making. Mickey shrugs, saying he didn’t do coke in ages, and that it just happens from time to time. His explanation is followed by a distressed shriek from Mandy. And a punch, because that’s Mandy for you. She lectures him on the importance of checking up with a doctor once in a while, but it’s Ian who drags him to see one. He doesn’t say much, just glares, literally tugs and pushes the other man while Mickey complains all the way to the clinic.  
It turns out he has anemia and his organism is quite exhausted from all the hours he’s been pulling at work. He is on a drip while Ian talks to a doctor about a new diet and supplements. Mickey is 99% sure that the doctor shouldn’t be discussing this with Gallagher, but the redhead is just so likeable that no one can resist him. Mickey sulks until they reach the flat, where Ian almost forces him into bed, for once without the naughty intent. Then he makes a green smoothie which Mickey has to drink because Ian refuses to leave his room otherwise.  
“Can you fucking leave already?” it sounds harsh, but it really isn’t. Mickey is just confused by the whole ordeal.  
“No, I… Look. You need to take care of yourself better. You can’t just sacrifice your health for Mandy’s sake. Or for whatever other reason you’re doing this. Is it money? Money is important, but you can’t be like that,” Ian waves his hand and looks at Mickey expectantly, as if it was supposed to mean something.  
“Dude, it’s fine. Poor diet or whatever, no big deal.”  
“You have anemia and get nosebleeds! It’s dangerous!”  
“Jesus, you’re so dramatic Gingersnap. What do you think is going to happen? I’m going to die from a nosebleed?”  
“No, no no no. I owe you, I’m going to help you,” Ian’s eyes are hard, lips tightly pressed together. He nods curtly, as if he is sealing some sort of deal, and Mickey has no say in it.  
“I’m not going to fuck you,” is what he settles on, and it tastes like a lie, but Ian doesn’t seem to catch on.  
“I don’t… Well, I do want to fuck you, not gonna lie, I always want to fuck you, hell, who doesn’t,” Gallagher rambles, “but that’s not why.”  
It takes another fifteen minutes for Gallagher to leave his room, Mickey falls asleep seconds after his head hits the pillow, not sure whether it’s anemia’s fault or Gallagher’s. 

Mickey absolutely loathes being ‘sick’. Not that he really is sick, but Mandy, Ian, Svetlana, Jake and Jason (because Mandy told them, the traitor) act like he is dying. He doesn’t even feel all that bad, just a little dizzy and weak. Mandy points out that his skin looks paper thin, and that he could be Casper’s less friendly brother, it isn’t even a good joke, but she laughs herself until she almost pees and has to make a run for the toilet. What Mickey finds funny is that neither Mandy nor Ian noticed anything until the doctor’s diagnosis, and they live together.  
Jake sleeps over so much that Mickey finally gets used to sleeping with someone, and that’s just wrong. One day he wakes up, and his limbs are tangled with Jake’s. The worst part is that he doesn’t mind the additional heat or the proximity, he only pretends to be angry. His friend doesn’t buy it, just ruffles his hair and tightens his grip. That’s pretty gay for a straight guy, but Jake doesn’t mind being perceived as gay.  
Jason lets him work only three hours every other day and even suggests longer trousers for the time being. Mickey, out of spite and innate stubbornness, refuses the offer and wears the glittering atrocity on his ass like he was born to do it.  
Svetlana laughs at him, but then but then feeds him _pyrizhky_ and _borshch_ , so he doesn’t complain all that much. She is a better cook than she was ever a whore, the latter mostly because of the attitude. She never can stay long, but she kisses his forehead and tells him not to be a sick asshole since she needs someone to babysit Yev from time to time.  
Ian is the worst. He doesn’t smother Mickey, but he is a constant presence, always ready for action. He makes smoothies in the morning, fish or red meat in the afternoon and fancy salads in the evening. Mickey should… no, Mickey hates it, even if a small part of him preens at the attention. He is a Southside thug, used to hiding and slinking in shadows to avoid detection. And yet this tiny, ridiculous part of his brain enjoys Ian’s care. Like there is something to be proud of when he is mostly sleeping and eating, looking pathetic. New York must be turning him softer than he thought.

***

It’s been two months since Ian’s got laid. It might not seem like a lot to most people, but it’s a new record for him since he started having sex at the age of fourteen. The funny part is that it takes Mandy to point it out for him to notice. Between classes, work and Mickey he is just too busy. Well, that’s not quite true because he still goes out with Mandy, but it just doesn’t happen. He jerks off at home instead, for some reason random guys don’t hold much appeal anymore. When the realization sinks in he almost literally panics and tries to fuck the closest semi-decent guy who enthusiastically bends over the nearest flat surface. The guy is only slightly shorter than him, has blond hair and brown eyes. His main appeal is supposed to be the fact that he looks nothing like Mickey. Ian tries, he really does, but his dick stays limp. His thoughts wander to the black haired, blue eyed man he knows, and that’s when his cock shows some interest. Only Ian is definitely no longer interested in the stranger who is so willing to fuck him without knowing his name that he is whimpering at the smallest of touches. The situation is beyond fucked up.  
Ian leaves the guy and goes home, wanting to just stay there and mourn his sex life. What happens instead is him going to Mickey’s room and making his best impression of a lost puppy. He’s been told that his big eyes and slightly hunched shoulders are very persuasive. Mickey blinks at him, barely awake.  
“Can I sleep here today?” he sounds pathetic even to his own ears.  
“Is something wrong? Is it your disorder?” Ian nods quickly, just once, and feels bad about exploiting Mickey’s kindness, he does, but at the same time it makes everything easy. The older man looks conflicted, but gestures for him to get into bed.  
Ian lies on it, already feeling much calmer. He’s never spent a night with Mickey before. They aren’t doing anything, just sharing air, listening to the same noises, but being in one bed is amazing. He waits until he is sure Mickey is asleep and moves towards the other man, slowly, until they are touching, his hand curling around the smaller body. The contact is electrifying. The skin on his chest and stomach feels hot where it touches Mickey’s smooth back. Mick’s fleshy ass snuggled against his crotch makes his breath hitch, but he is too tired to get hard. Nose pressed against his nape, Ian breathes in his scent like it’s a potent drug, it overwhelms his senses and lulls him to sleep before he even notices that his eyes are closing.  
He wakes up feeling warm and content with Mickey still asleep in his arms. He takes a moment to enjoy the intimacy, as forced as it is. Mickey could deny him this last night, but Ian knows that his disorder makes it very difficult for people to turn him down, even for those who usually don’t give two fucks about him. And the older man, for some reason, still cares enough to allow Ian in his room, in his bed.  
Ian runs his hand down the slightly muscled torso, fingers stroking hollows of Mickey’s body, stopping at sharp hips. He rubs gently, remembering when he was allowed to leave finger shaped bruises there. The feeling of longing is a sharp pain in his gut making him gasp. He presses lips to the junction between Mickey’s neck and shoulder, not kissing, just keeping them there.  
When Ian was a child he looked like an alien, he isn’t even exaggerating. There is proof. He was short, scrawny, way too ginger and way too freckled. He still has some of them left, but they’re much paler. They used to look like big stains of dirt all over his body, making him the perfect victim for bullies. He was so happy when the tiny blemishes finally disappeared, leaving his skin mostly clear. Now they make him think about Mickey as a child. He wants to know whether the other man also looked like a dirty monkey, but there are no photos from that time. He is battered and bruised beyond recognition in the only pictures Mickey has of himself.  
But even now Mickey’s skin is full of freckles, every inch of his body covered in tiny spots of colour, barely darker than his pale complexion. There are freckles on his eyelids and lips, a whole constellation of them on his arms and collarbones. It’s breathtaking, a whole new world to get lost in, and Ian wants that. He wants to kiss them to show his appreciation, make love to the ones on the soft insides of Mickey’s thighs.  
“Stop thinking, it woke me up. And stop smiling,” it only makes Ian smile wider against Mickey’s skin.  
“You want your smoothie now?” he mumbles, lips still mostly attached to the other man.  
“Is this supposed to be a gross innuendo?”  
“Uh, no?”  
“Your dick doesn’t know this.”  
It definitely doesn’t. After a night of really good sleep Ian’s body is more than ready to get back to business, and since they are spooning his hard cock is snuggled between Mickey’s buttocks.  
“I tried to fuck someone yesterday,” it just slips out, unplanned and unwanted.  
“Is that supposed to be surprising? Unusual?” Mickey doesn’t sound jealous or angry. His tone is conversational, maybe a bit sarcastic.  
“I tried and failed.”  
“How can you fail to fuck someone?” now Mickey sounds curious and tries to turn around, but Ian holds him still.  
“Easily, you can’t get your dick hard enough. And you don’t really want to fuck them.”  
“Is it your meds? Your dick seems to be working fine now,” Mickey pushes back against Ian to prove his point.  
“It’s not my meds, it’s you! I haven’t slept with anyone in two months because all I think about is you.” Mickey struggles against him, trying to get away, put some distance between them. But Ian can’t let him go. He uses his strength to pin the older man down, whispers shaky apologies, he needs this moment to last longer.  
“Gallagher,” it’s too soft to be threatening.  
They lay like this, with Ian on top of Mickey, for almost twenty minutes before Ian has to take his pills. He thinks that they might have accidentally reached some sort of understanding.

His suspicion is confirmed when Mickey invites both him and Mandy to come to the party at the club. They are celebrating five successful years, and Jason decided to hire few people to take care of the bar and dancing, so that regular employees can have fun. Svetlana is there with her girlfriend, and Ian’s mood turns a bit sour for a while when he spots Jake with some girl (later he learns it’s his sister Anna), but other than that he is having fun watching other people get progressively more drunk, and dancing with Mandy. He is aware of Mickey’s presence at all times, and even if he is talking with someone else he always makes sure to know where the older man is. Mandy calls him out on it, clearly unhappy, but he just shrugs. There is no point in lying, but he doesn’t want to fight with her. He spins her until she is laughing again, lets her go only when she threatens to throw up on him.  
The club is packed mostly with guys who, objectively speaking, are really hot, and judging from the frequent trips to the restrooms – horny. Ian gets pinched, squeezed or rubbed against every time he stands up or goes to the bar. He is a bit of an attention whore, so he just smirks at them, maybe participates in some innocent flirting without showing real interest or lingering for too long.  
There are few drag queens, loud, flamboyant and beautiful, and Ian expects Mickey to be annoyed, or at least flustered by their obvious interest in him, but the older man just smiles, no traces of anger. He seems almost playful when queens fawn over his legs and how great they would look in a skirt. One of the dancers, seeing Ian’s confusion, explains that it’s a running joke between Mickey and the queens who often frequent their bar on Wednesdays. Carrie, the youngest, and the least flashy of the queens disagrees with that, saying that she really would love to see the dark haired man in a dress, and that she would do so many things to him he would never want to leave her room again. Ian can tell that she means it, her khol-lined eyes sharp with desire when they land on Mickey. It’s also obvious that Mickey, while he doesn’t hate the attention, has no intention of reciprocating which puts Ian at ease.  
Svetlana leaves around midnight, saying she has to pick Yev from the babysitter, and Jason lets Mandy pass out in his office two hours later. She had at least two drinks too many.  
When three o’clock strikes the crowd thins out considerably, only the most determined employees and patrons left. Ian watches Mickey approach the bar and make his way back with two beers. He looks good in dark blue skinny jeans and a tight, black t-shirt. Ian isn’t the only one who thinks so, because before Mickey reaches their table he is stopped by a beefy guy who has guts to grasp Mick’s hips and grind against his ass, ignoring any verbal protests.  
Ian… well, Ian goes berserk. In his mind there is no doubt that Mickey can take care of it. He does it for himself. His fists connect with flesh, ROTC training never fully forgotten. Blow after blow, it brings a sudden feeling of calm. The guy is down and bleeding within seconds. No one tries to stop him, there are some whistles and lewd offers, but he only cares about Mickey, who is staring at him, silent.  
“Nice punches, man, but try not to maul my customers next time, yeah? Mick is a big boy, he knows what to do when someone tries to cop a feel,” Jason’s hand is heavy on his arm, it’s a friendly warning, but a warning all the same. The party dies soon after the incident, Jason comes home with them, and Ian sits next to Mickey’s door to listen to their moans.

“Make me a banana smoothie, Carrot top,” Ian beams when he hears Mickey’s request said in a low, gruff voice which more often than not is a sign of a hangover. It’s the first time the other man asked him to make something, it might have something to do with the fact that his cooking skills improved quite a lot, but it still makes him happy. He decides to make a strawberry banana smoothie because it’s Mickey’s favourite, and Mandy likes it a lot too. He makes pancakes to go with the smoothie, chattering the whole time. Mickey pretends to read a newspaper, but Ian can see that he is listening, corners of his mouth slightly raised in amusement.  
“Mandy is going to a birthday party today, you going with her?” the older man suddenly asks in a middle of Ian’s rant about ticket prices.  
“Nope, I was thinking about staying home and watching some action movies,” he pretends to be very busy with pancakes, flipping them unnecessarily early. “D… do you want to join in?”  
“Sure, Firecrotch.”  
It’s as easy as that.


	11. Chapter 11

There is beer, Doritos and movies, the usual stuff, but…   
To be precise: there is Mickey’s favourite beer, favourite Doritos and mostly Seagal movies to choose from.   
Mickey never claimed to be a genius, but it’s pretty obvious that Ian is doing it for him. Gallagher likes movie theatres and van Damme, and yet he insists on staying home. Obvious.   
It might seem like a small, insignificant thing, but it’s nice, nicer than parties he’s been forced to go to before, it shows that maybe the younger man finally paid some attention to what Mickey really likes.   
Ian is a warm, solid form next to him. Their sides are touching while they’re watching ‘Under Siege’ which is Mickey’s favourite Seagal movie. He’s seen it more times than he can count, so when Ian yet again tries, and fails, to look at him inconspicuously, Mickey gives in and kisses him. It’s a gentle, innocent kiss, and yet Ian closes eyes the second their lips connect, Mickey has to stifle a laugh. They’ve done the whole mouth to ass stuff, yet Gallagher is getting all hot over a chaste kiss. Not that it stays chaste for long, not with their tongues meeting halfway through. Usually Ian is more controlling and aggressive, but now he seems almost shy, his hands twitch, but he doesn’t try to touch.  
Mickey closes the laptop and puts it aside without tearing his eyes away from the boy he is kissing. He licks into the redhead’s mouth, fucks into it with his tongue, letting out an exaggerated moan just to be a tease. He wants to goad Ian into action, and that’s reason enough for him to climb on the redhead’s lap, bringing their crotches into contact. The younger man has a full hard on already which Mickey finds surprising. It’s a new thing for him, feeling so wanted. It excites him.  
He bites Ian’s lip until he can taste blood and then lets go. Gallagher’s eyes flutter open, hazy with lust.  
“You want me?” Mickey breathes the question into Ian’s mouth, grinding down, riding the younger man through their clothes.  
“Fuck, Mick, always,” it’s a high pitched, needy whine accompanied by strong hands grabbing the older man’s hips.  
“Take me then.”  
It’s like Ian has been waiting for permission, he throws Mickey flat on the bed, and Mickey can hear his shirt ripping when it gets yanked off his body. His sweatpants come next, and Ian stays down, kissing his legs. It tickles a bit, but Mickey doesn’t say a thing. Soft, wet kisses feel nice against his calves, and when Gallagher’s tongue reaches under his knees, licking the soft skin there, the older man thinks he might have discovered an erogenous zone. He exhales shakily, learning exactly how sensitive the spot is. His thighs tremble when the tongue reaches them, and Ian must be on a mission to mark him, because pale skin quickly turns bright red under sharp teeth, but he can’t find it in himself to mind when it feels so good to be treated with so much care.   
A surprisingly cold nose touches his groin, and he is sure he can hear the other man inhale his scent. Mickey bites his lips, not expecting this level of intimacy and trying not to freak out because of it. The nose moves to his cock and lower. Wide, fleshy tongue presses against his perineum, then slides down and over his hole. Ian licks and sucks at his opening, and Mickey can’t stop a loud moan which is followed by an even louder groan when the tongue breaches him. His hips move on their own accord, trying to force Ian deeper. He spreads his legs, body already preparing for penetration, he holds himself open for that talented tongue and fingers which join in one by one.   
“Fuck me, fuck me,” it’s as close to begging as he will ever get, his body betraying his desperation. Ian’s fingers skim around his prostate before rubbing against it, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. His cock is leaking, red and swollen against taut stomach. Mickey doesn’t need much preparation, and his prostate feels almost overly sensitive with so much attention directed at it. Ian knows this, judging from the way his lips curl into a smile just before they wrap around Mickey’s dick. He tries to still his hips, but Ian hums and swallows, throat tightening, and he fucks into red mouth. The younger man pulls off with a cough, still smiling. It’s not one of his smirks that Mickey learned to hate, it’s a happy smile that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners, and makes Mickey want to kiss him stupid. So he does, stealing the redhead’s breath and earning a hard pinch which sends him into a fit of laughter. He barely notices his partner reaching for a condom and putting it on, and he is still laughing when Ian’s cock enters him.   
“Stop shaking, you’re clenching too much,” the younger man says, sounding almost serious. It takes a sharp thrust for him to bottom out, and it transforms Mickey’s laugh into a long whine.   
“Yeah, like that,” he whispers, laying a kiss on Ian's chin. “Do me like that.”  
It’s the only encouragement the redhead needs, he picks up pace without losing a steady rhythm, pistoning into Mickey’s pliant body.  
Mickey missed it, God damn did he miss it. No one else can fill him so good, make him break in two, rip apart with pleasurable pain. Ian’s cock is hot, fat and hard enough to bruise him from the inside. Mickey wants to be fucked by him forever, he can hardly make noises anymore, too lost in the approaching orgasm. He is leaving scratches on the redhead’s broad shoulders and back, and Ian retaliates by biting his collarbones, sucking dark bruises into his skin. Mickey’s nipples feel tender from all the attention Gallagher is giving them, and he loves it. He wants to be broken, he wants to bleed to satisfy the other man. His cock rubs between their stomachs leaving thick traces of precome. He arches his back, panting like he ran a marathon when he comes.   
His come hits his chin, and Ian lowers his head to lick it off. The pace of Ian’s thrusts quickens, Mickey clenches on the hardness inside of him, feeling raw from the rough fucking, and he spurs the redhead on, a litany of ‘fuck me fuck me _fuck me_ ’ leaving his mouth. He gets pinned to the bed, unable to move when Ian ruts few more times, coming deep inside him and finally stills. Their breathing is ragged, loud in the otherwise quiet room. The younger man lingers, looking conflicted. Mickey locks his legs behind Ian’s thighs, letting him stay for a little longer.  
“I want this,” the redhead murmurs brokenly into his lips. He doesn’t have to explain.  
“We can… we can do the whole thing again.”   
“No, no, I want you,” Ian shakes his head vehemently. “I have no right to ask, but please, be mine. Be my boyfriend. I won’t do this again, I won’t cheat, I swear, I will be good for you.” Mickey kisses him hard, afraid of what might come out if he doesn’t stop it in time.   
“Okay, yeah. But let’s. Let’s keep our options open. You find someone you want then it’s cool.”  
“It’s not what I want!”  
“It isn’t now,” it sounds cruel, but at the same time it’s true. It might be true. Mickey is willing to try, but it doesn’t mean he believes, or trusts, the younger man. But it seems that he just can’t stay away from Ian, fighting it seems pointless. He will be careful, that’s it, he will be careful and nothing bad will happen. 

Mandy is. Mandy is not happy, to put it mildly. Ian didn’t expect her to be ecstatic about the new development, but he did expect at least a bit of enthusiasm. Support. There is none. His best friend is glaring at him with so much anger that Ian feels like hiding. Mickey is at work, so he is lucky to miss the shitstorm, although Ian suspects his boyfriend won’t get the same treatment. Boyfriend. Ah.  
Mandy throws books at him, one of them catches him in the arm, and it really hurts. She isn’t just playing, she is aiming at physically hurting him.  
“I hate it. I told you not to touch him again. And you did. You’re going to break him, you fucker.”  
“I won’t. I like him a lot.”  
“You like anything with a dick.”  
“You said it yourself, I haven’t fucked anyone in months. It’s because of Mickey.”  
“Bullshit it is,” Mandy doesn’t look convinced, but the fight left her, and she is sitting on a floor surrounded by books, looking sad and resigned. “I love you Ian, but Mickey is my brother. He never had a real boyfriend, and you will just use him again and again, until you find someone else to play with. It will break him.”  
Maybe Ian deserves the harsh words, but it still hurts that even his best friend doesn’t believe in his good intentions. He wants to be the best boyfriend possible for Mickey, he wants to prove to everyone that they are perfect together. He is going to prove it, even if everyone else is going to be against it. He will prove it to Mandy, to Jake, to Jason and Svetlana. But first and foremost, he will prove it to Mickey.

***

Ian needs a routine. Lip always teases him about it, says that he is almost like a baby, but it helps him stay on the right track. Wake up, run, take pills, eat breakfast, continue with the rest of the day. Pills help a lot, but stability is something that makes his disorder more manageable. When he started college, parties were an inseparable part of his routine, but the thing about parties is that they aren’t exactly predictable. Every night he went to different clubs meeting different people, and now he can safely say that it didn’t help with his mood. Mickey’s routine and affection, on the other hand, make him calm. They bicker and fight all the time, but he feels safe, comfortable. What really helps is that he doesn’t have to pretend to be completely healthy. He doesn’t want everyone to know about his disorder, so sometimes it’s hard to be around people from college or work. They expect him to always be a chatty, happy guy, and sometimes it’s just _too hard_ to pretend. Every comment about his sudden mood swings, which is funny for an outsider, makes him feel a bit worse on the inside, a small piece of him gets burned with every innocuous joke.  
Neither Mickey nor Mandy get angry when his smile suddenly turns slightly smaller, slightly less real. Mandy hugs him and talks about her day without acknowledging it verbally. Mickey’s a warm, grumpy presence next to him. It feels like he got two additional family members, but he doesn’t tell either of them that, not wanting to spook them. Milkoviches are skittish creatures.  
Sleeping in Mickey’s bed isn’t as easy, or obvious, as it should be. The older man is more than happy with sharing the contents of his sex toys drawer, but he is somehow hesitant when it comes to sleeping together. Ian fucked him with dildos, beads and prostate massagers, fisted him for hours, and yet every night Mickey tries to make them sleep in separate beds. His success rate is about 50% because Ian doesn’t want to push him too far, but at the same time he doesn’t want to give up something that is important for him. He knows the older man is trying to set up boundaries, but Ian wants to break his walls and crawl inside, he wants everything, not a small, limited portion of Mickey’s life and affection. He was always greedy when it came to love.  
Is that love? His track record is impressive for such a young guy, and everything used to feel like love when he was high, drunk, or out of his mind. And then he would wake up realizing it was everything but love. He knows the love that comes with family bonds, love that is an inherent part of friendship, but his only point of reference for the romantic love is Kev’s and V’s relationship, and he isn’t close enough to them to ask about details. His own family mostly fucks or fucks it up, sometimes both at the same time. Mandy is as helpless as he is, and she would rip his head off anyway if he asked about love in the context of Mickey. Ian doesn’t know how he can prove that he isn’t going to do anything to screw Mick over, but he knows that few weeks of good behaviour are not enough for Mandy’s apprehension to disappear.  
“You wanna, uh, go and see a movie?” Mickey’s unsure voice tears him from his musing. Mickey is thumbing his bottom lip, it’s a sign of nervousness. The older man enjoys the comfort and silence of his own room, it’s unusual for him to offer something like that. Ian nods, eyeing him suspiciously.  
“Sure? If you want to then I’m game.” Why would Mickey be nervous if it was only about watching a movie? Maybe there is something important he wants to say, and the movie is supposed to soften the blow?  
Mickey shrugs and two hours later they find themselves at a movie theatre, watching some action flick. They got some popcorn and candy, and Ian tries hard to concentrate, but his anxiety level is too high. He can feel that the other man is just as tense, actually, Mickey is close enough that the pressure on his arm is quite heavy and… He experimentally puts his arm around Mickey, more than ready to withdraw it, but the other man instantly relaxes. Ian can’t stop himself, he kisses the top of a dark haired head. After that he manages to watch the movie in a relative peace. They get hot dogs on their way home which Mickey pays for, and…  
Oh.  
It’s a date, Ian realizes. They are on a date, their first date ever. That’s why the older man was nervous. Ian has to fight the sudden urge to kiss Mickey stupid, keeping in mind the gay bashing incident, he waits until they’re in their flat. He kisses Mickey’s forehead, slightly pink cheeks, lays a soft kiss on his nose before moving to the full, red lips. When he takes his boyfriend to bed that night the sex is slower, gentler and Mickey doesn’t rush him. It feels like a victory.

Ian almost gets murdered on a sunny Saturday morning when Svetlana comes to drop off the baby on them. He wakes up with a clawhammer in his face, and a Russian woman glaring at him menacingly.  
“You hurt him again, and I will kill you. Then I will go to Chicago and kill all your family. Understood?” her accent seems much thicker than it was before, which makes everything far more threatening than it should. Lana could probably take over America and defeat Putin if she wanted. Ian is more than sure that she won’t hesitate to use her weapon on him.   
“Yes! Absolutely! I will never hurt him!”  
“You continue sucking his dick, and we are good,” the clawhammer disappears in Svetlana’s bag, and so does her mean glare. “Take care of the babies.”  
Ian waits another fifteen minutes just to be sure she is gone, before getting dressed in his running clothes. Tired, even more grumpy than usually Mickey is sitting in the kitchen bouncing Yevgeny and muttering under his breath.   
“Lana dropped him off too early, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I’ll make you a big breakfast when I’m back, and you can get some more sleep, I’ll look after him.”  
Ian is great with babies. He could be a certified babysitter if he wanted. Three younger siblings prepared him for everything from colic to puking, but they also made him realize that having a baby won’t ever be on the top of his list of priorities. At least Yevy isn’t a fussy child, he mostly eats, sleeps and drools on Mickey. Ian might be the one who changes his diapers, feeds him more often than not and rubs his tummy when it aches, but Yev is obsessed with Mickey. He won’t go to sleep unless the dark haired man is in the room, preferably holding him, and he always smiles more around Mickey. Ian finds it both frustrating and endearing. The older man isn’t entirely comfortable with a tiny human, always afraid he is going to mess up, but Yevgeny doesn’t care.   
As promised, Ian prepares breakfast after his run which Mickey devours like a man starved. When they are done the older man follows him to his room, instead of going to his own, and falls asleep the second his head hits Ian’s pillow.   
Ian’s smile is so big it almost splits his face in two while he watches his boyfriend sleep with a baby curled next to him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some parties are actually good.

“Did you tell Lip?” Mandy asks out of nowhere, casually beating him in Mortal Kombat while looking at him from the corner of her eye. The wonders of being a woman and being able to multitask like it’s easy, he thinks.   
“About what?”  
“You and Mickey?”  
“What for?” Ian panics a bit, the subject doesn’t sit well with him. In fact, he avoids thinking bout it.   
“Shit is bound to be awkward? They fucked,” Mandy says bluntly, no longer pretending to play.  
“I didn’t, not yet. And they only fucked, no strings attached. Whatever,” but the tension in his shoulders tells a whole different story. Lip is not a relationship guy, he’s never said anything about wanting to be with Mickey, but Ian is still afraid. He is sick. He will always be sick. How appealing can that be to anyone? Lip is far from perfect, but at least he won’t go mental on anyone.   
“You should tell him. Tell your family,” Mandy presses.   
“Why?”  
“Are you ashamed of him?”  
“No! Of course not!” Ian all but shouts.  
“Then don’t hide him from your family, douchebag.”  
Mandy goes to the kitchen to reheat some leftovers for dinner and a formula for Yev, and Ian is left wondering whether telling his family is a good move. It seems that Mandy is testing him, trying to judge the depth of his commitment. It’s not like he is ashamed of Mickey, he just wants to keep the older man for himself and away from Lip. For some reason he doesn’t feel the same way towards Jason, even though Jason is 100% gay and always up for a fuck with short thugs. But Jason has a strict no-cheating policy, and the same can’t be said about Lip. Ian isn’t sure his brother would have qualms about sleeping with his boyfriend. Maybe he is a bit unfair, but he is still mad at Lip for choosing to fuck Mickey. It changed a lot between them.  
They don’t really talk anymore. Granted, they’re both busy with their lives, but the incident definitely put a strain on their relationship. Ian video chats with Fiona, Debbie, Carl and Liam at least two hours a week, there is always something to talk about even if the week hasn’t been particularly eventful. They have always been pretty tight, and giving up on that for a boy seems ridiculous, but a sense of betrayal is too strong to ignore. Lip could choose Mandy, someone Ian wasn’t interested in, but at the same time someone who definitely was Lip’s type. Yet, regardless of his usual preferences, Lip went for Mickey. A guy. Someone Ian was interested in. He just can’t wrap his head around it.  
Every time Mickey receives a text Ian wonders whether it’s from Lip. He knows for sure that they talked on a phone when he was unwell, Mickey told him he called for some advice. Maybe they still talk, only Mick doesn’t feel the need to inform him. Why would he? He doesn’t have to tell Ian every single detail about his life just because the younger man shares everything.   
Ian is jealous of his own brother, and it’s an awful, exhausting feeling that he can’t shake off. The logical part of his brain screams at him that he is an idiot, that there is nothing Mickey and Lip can have with so many miles between them, after so few moments together but feelings, especially his, are rarely ever logical and far more powerful than the arguments his mind can come up with. Now he notices small things Mickey does for him, but he wants more. He wants everything that is there. He is selfish, he’s always been selfish.

***

There is a party which makes Mickey confused. In general, he isn’t great at parties, but this one he just doesn’t get at all. It’s supposed to be a college party, but it’s organized by one of the professors at his house, so it’s probably more of an after school meeting than a party. What Mickey doesn’t understand is why would students want to spend their free time with a professor, and why would said professor waste his time on a bunch of stupid kids that could be his children. Or grandchildren. Ian is going, obviously. It might be a bit unfair, Gallagher did dramatically limit the number of parties he went to, nowadays more often than not opting for staying with Mickey, but he still wants to go to this one. It’s supposed to give him some cookie points, or whatever.  
Of course Mickey got invited too, not officially, but he can go with Ian. The redhead wants him to go, but there is no pressure. Or there wouldn’t be if Jake could keep his mouth shut for once. Jake, who has some classes with Ian and the partying professor, and who not so subtly informed Mickey that the professor has hots for Gallagher. What is it about the younger man that has old farts wetting their panties? Sure, he is hot and maybe a bit of a twink, but his sweet face hides a lot of attitude. Are they fucking blind? Have they never paid any attention when he talked?  
Mickey is not jealous, or protective, he is not. But he still wears one of his nice, black shirts and a pair of worn, skinny jeans and lets Jake drive them to the party that started half an hour ago. He knows that if Ian wants to cheat then he can do it whenever. He can skip classes and fuck some dude in the bathroom, he can say he is going out with some friends and then fuck someone, he can even ask someone over when Mickey is at work. Mickey isn’t his keeper, he just wants to see for himself if there are any signs of attraction from Ian.  
It takes them a while to find the redhead. The place is big and pretty crowded, students chattering loudly and drinking. The guy has to be seriously loaded to be able to afford a place like that in New York, and Mickey’s confidence slowly diminishes. He keeps a straight face on, and Jake helps by telling him ridiculous stories and gossips about people he knows. When they finally spot Ian they also find the host, so Mickey waits, watching them interact. It’s clear that ‘what’s-his-name’ is into Ian, though his version of flirting makes Mickey gag. Gallagher is polite and amicable, but nothing about him screams attraction.  
Suddenly, Ian turns slightly and looks straight at Mickey, his eyes widening.  
“Mick? Oh my God, Mick!” Gallagher looks like an excited puppy, almost bouncing.  
“Hey gingersnap, decided to come and see what the hype is about.” They don’t kiss, but when they stand next to each other Ian grabs his ass and squeezes it hard enough that he whimpers quietly, embarrassed.  
“This is Terrence, my professor,” the professor looks to be about sixty, but Mickey has to admit that the guy isn’t hideous, could even be considered attractive for someone his age. Jake pulls the disappearing act seconds after introductions, probably expecting a drama and trying to avoid it. Smart guy.  
Terrence tries to engage Mickey in a discussion, clearly interested in the story behind his knuckle tattoos, but Mickey just glares until he gives up. Besides, Ian is more than happy to talk about whatever he is studying, coursework, symbolism of flowers, French revolution or whatever, so he can just stand there, not contributing anything. It’s hard to concentrate when there is a constant pressure on his ass and an insistent finger digging into it, trying to surreptitiously press into his hole through the jeans. Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover the situation, and Gallagher looks very happy with himself, smiling widely as he explains something. No one pays them any attention, so the torture continues for about an hour. Mickey is ready to leave and fuck in Jake’s car or anywhere else, really, so he goes to the bathroom hoping that Ian will follow.  
His plan backfires terribly. He gets followed no by Ian, but by Terrence, who tries to corner him against the fancy looking sink. Everything in this place is so goddamn fancy.  
“The fuck dude?” he asks, harshly pushing the older man away, hating the way wrinkled hands feel against his body.  
“Look. I didn’t know Ian has a boyfriend, but it’s not a problem. I’d be more than happy with two hot, young boys in my bed. You’re fierce,” there is an obvious evidence of Terrence’s happiness at the thought in his pants, and it reminds Mickey of another old guy he’d rather forget about. His instincts tell him to butthead the pervert, but he’s still Ian’s professor. It just wouldn’t end well for either of them.  
“You touch him, and I will burn your house down with you still in it.”  
There is a flash of fear, but Mickey must have underestimated Terrence’s arousal because the man licks his lips lewdly and murmurs, “What if I touch you, boy?”  
“Then you will mourn your dick,” he spits out vehemently before leaving the room. He is not going to stay any longer in this place, and Ian has to see that since he doesn’t object when Mickey grabs his hand and heads for the door. Jake joins them, no one speaks until they are outside, lighting cigarettes. It’s a pretty cold night, it helps Mickey wind down. He is proud of himself, he didn’t cause a scene or hit anyone. Maybe he is growing up to be a decent human being, who knew.  
“Something happened in the bathroom?” Ian tries to fake a casual interest but fails terribly, his curiosity is clearly getting better of him.  
“Your professor suggested a threesome and then hit on me.”  
“He did what?!” the fake nonchalance disappears as fast as it appeared, leaving Gallagher red in the face and outraged. His hair seems to be burning around his head creating a red halo. “Fucking prick. I will slash his tires.”  
“What the fuck, Firecrotch? You can’t be serious,” Mickey groans when Ian ignores him and approaches a sleek, expensive car with a switchblade already in hand. He didn’t even know that his boyfriend carries one. “You will get in trouble!”  
“Nah, man, let him,” Jake says, lazily smoking his cigarette. “Terrence can do shit all to him. Or to you. Everyone knows Terrence wants to bone Ian which is highly inappropriate, right? The old fuck is in a position of power, and if Ian tells the dean about it no one will even care about the tires. Buh-bye Terrence.”  
“Sounds too easy.”  
“It’s really fucking easy to get rid of someone who likes to touch his students and gets hot about ‘boys’.”  
They watch Ian slash three tires with a surprising precision, like he’s done this multiple times before. Mickey’s thoughts wander towards Terrence, and he shivers when remembers him talking about ‘boys’ and fucking. Both he and Ian are legal, but there is something unsettling about it. It could be an innocent kink, yet Mickey can’t help but wonder if it’s more perverse, if there is some secret hidden behind the smiling face of a college professor.  
When Gallagher is satisfied with his work Jake drives them home. Mickey lets Ian cuddle in the car because he can’t resist the goddamn puppy eyes, but he stops the redhead when one, sneaky hand tries to fondle him. Fucking exhibitionist.  
Mandy is either sleeping or otherwise occupied, the door to her room closed and the flat quiet. Ian is exceptionally affectionate, kissing and nuzzling his neck, slowly stripping off the layers of clothing they’re wearing, not caring where they land. They end up in his room, for some reason the younger man seems to prefer being there, always insisting on spending the night. Mickey doesn’t exactly mind it, but the redhead is like a bomb, insistent on breaking every wall Mickey put up to protect himself. Soft kisses and gentle touches are overwhelming, difficult to process when all he knew for years was violence.  
For all his previous insistence, Ian’s actions don’t seem to be leading anywhere. There is no burning heat, their kissing is deep, lips rubbing against each other in a slow dance. Ian sucks on his tongue and then bites it softly making Mickey smile into their kiss.  
“Why are you like this, hmm?” he whispers, not wanting to upset the redhead who, instead of answering, makes an unintelligible noise. “What is it mumbles?”  
“I said,” Ian looks into his eyes, “it’s because you came and stood up for me.”  
“I didn’t…” Mickey tries to contradict him, but is silenced with a kiss.  
“You did. I love you,” Ian looks as surprised with what slipped out of his mouth as Mickey feels. He didn’t expect, he isn’t ready, it’s…  
“Please don’t panic,” Gallagher continues quietly, hands rubbing circles on his boyfriend’s neck and back. “You don’t have to say it back, it took me some time to realize. It’s just, yeah, I love you.”  
“Don’t say that,” Mickey can’t keep his eyes open, if he does he will cry, and Milkoviches do not cry. Milkoviches do not do love. Ian shushes him, lays sweet kisses all over his eyelids and cheeks, not letting him turn away from this.  
Ian is holding him a bit too tightly for it to be comfortable, and yet Mickey can’t help but let him, even if his heart is beating so fast that he can barely hear anything else.

Mickey wakes up in a big cocoon made of him, comforter and Ian who is sprawled over his back, pinning him to the bed. It should feel suffocating, and he waits for the panic to settle in. It doesn’t, the only thing he feels is warmth. And Ian’s dick pushed against his crack.   
Ian Gallagher loves him, but the world hasn’t taken notice of this, and it’s still spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah.


	13. Chapter 13

“Bitch, why didn’t you fail?”  
“Fuck you, Mickey, is why” Mandy’s aim is flawless when she throws a water bottle at him, it hits him square in the head.   
“Seriously though, you whined about failing this one class?” Mickey’s memory is exceptionally good, but only when he cares about the thing he is being told about. Everything related to Mandy seems to be important, if only to see her smile when she realizes that he is paying attention.  
“Yeah, alright, okay, but don’t tell Ian.”  
“Bitch, please. Sisters over hoes.”   
Mandy looks down for a second, eyebrows slightly furrowed. She is either going to lie or say something embarrassing, she’s never been able to control her expressions.   
“I talked with the professor about it, and at first he said there was nothing I could do. But, I don’t know, I had a hunch, so I insisted, and he told me to see him during the office hours. He seemed a bit shifty, and I’ve heard things from other students, not about him, but in general. When I went to see him he said that I will pass if I blow him. Not in these words, but you know, it was obvious enough.”  
Mickey raises an eyebrow, because the last time they talked about prostitution Mandy had some pretty strong opinions. No surprise she doesn’t want Ian to know, if she blew the old guy. Mickey finds it amusing in a cruel way, but he is considering finding the old fart and beating him up anyway.  
“So you sucked him off?” Mandy rolls her eyes at him, something he absolutely hates.  
“No, dimwit. I recorded the whole conversation, and said that I will take it to the dean if he fails me. You should’ve seen his face, he turned really pale, like you, and he was squirming and sweating like a pig.”   
“That’s my sister,” he punches Mandy, lightly, in the arm, a Milkovich way of showing affection. His little sister is damn smart, and she will go far in life. He is sure of that. No wonder their mother chose her.  
They sit there smiling at each other, and yeah, it feels good to have his sister back. Phone calls and rare meetings had to be enough in Chicago, but being able to see her any time he wants is so much better. He doesn’t really need family, he does well on his own. But having someone who is your flesh and blood feels different; maybe it’s the imposed notion that the family should mean more than other people, but he doesn’t care. He is happy to have Mandy in his life.   
“Ian told me that he loves me,” he blurts out. What the fuck, he never gets word vomits. He is turning into Gallagher.   
“That fucker,” Mandy menacingly grinds her teeth, it makes her look quite terrifying.  
“Do you think it’s true?” he hates how small his voice sounds, but if there is someone he can confide in then it’s his sister.   
“I don’t know, Mick. I mean, he seems to like you a lot, but I just don’t know.”  
“Yeah… yeah. I don’t know either.”  
“But even if he does love you… Is he good for you? You’re obviously good for him, but is he good for you?” Mandy’s hand ruffles his hair, and for once he lets her get away with it, seeing it for what it is: a silent comfort, a show of support. She’s been doing it a lot lately. “Love is not enough.” And that’s something that many people wouldn’t get, but Milkoviches understand it all too well. Love might be incredible, but it’s not enough. 

Mandy likes to think that she is very observant. Granted, she didn’t notice her brother’s and her friend’s affair, but only because it was completely unexpected. Now that she knows she is attentive like a hunting hawk. And she sees that Ian Gallagher is different than he was when he first moved it. She had a crush on him when they met, and he swept in like a knight in shining armor, helping her with an aggressive douchebag (to learn that the redhead is, in fact, very similar to the guy has been shattering). She was disappointed when she realized that Ian is gay, it seemed unfair that the sweetest, prettiest men are always gay, but now she is almost relieved. She had her heart broken by boys too many times for her young age. Her choices are often questionable, but at least they aren’t as bad as her mother’s. There was a guy who thought he could treat her like a punching bag, but she dropped him quite fast. There was another one who gave her STD because he couldn’t help but stick it in every chick he saw, and Mickey drove from Southside just to beat him up (Mandy hasn’t told him about the guy that’s been hitting her, she was too ashamed to admit that she followed into their mother’s footsteps).  
Ian seemed like a very sweet boy, with his smile and beautiful hazel eyes, but it only took few weeks of being his friend to notice his flaws. She didn’t mind it then, everyone is a little bit bad, especially when they’re on their own, away from the family for the first time in their lives. It gets to your head. For Mandy it was drinking and partying, and she couldn’t understand how Mickey can be so calm about living alone. She gets it now, partying is fun, but having a quiet home to come back to, where you can remove your make-up and put some old, ratty clothes on, is nice.   
Ian talked a lot about finding a perfect boyfriend, but it turned out to be a big, fat lie. Mandy liked Connor, Luke, Nate, Max, she liked most of Ian’s boyfriends. They were nice, yet Ian always cheated on them, not giving a tiniest fuck about their feelings. But he couldn’t stand being alone, so he always found himself a new boy to play with. That spoke of a cold heartedness that stood in stark contrast with his fiery hair. Mandy can be a bitch, and she is proud of that, but there are limits to bitchiness and rudeness, that Ian would constantly cross with his boyfriends who were kind and sweet, completely oblivious until the last moment.   
Mickey is not gentle or sweet. Or at least she’s never seen him act like that, although Ian sometimes hints at experiencing it from her brother. It’s probably a sex thing she does not want to think about. Mickey and sex just don’t exist together in her mind.   
The point is, Mickey is nothing like Ian’s other boyfriends, and Mandy strongly believes that he deserves more than Ian’s temporary affection. The last thing she wants is her brother actually falling in love with the redhead, only to have his heart ripped apart and stomped on.

***

“You have no fucking chill, man,” Mickey complains while Ian’s whole body shakes with excitement. It’s a birthday party at his workplace, no big deal. Everyone celebrates birthday once a year, but from the way Ian is acting you would think his comes every ten years. Mickey doesn’t really see a point in celebrating something you had no say it, but he agreed to help with the alcohol. He also got a night off from the bar, but promised his boyfriend to wear the work uniform anyway because, sadly, Ian is one of those people who think that Mickey’s ass looks good in tiny shorts (it doesn’t. It looks dumb, and they are all wrong.)  
“But it’s my birthday, Mick,’ Ian whines, “I’m allowed to be excited! I will dance! Watch you sit there all grumpy and cute. And I’m going to fuck you in the backroom, create some new memories, huh?” Right, that’s why Mickey agreed to wear the shorts. Promise of a mind-blowing sex works miracles with him.  
They didn’t book the whole place, there’s no need. Once Ian stopped hanging out with Ethan, his group of friends visibly diminished, so there are other random people around. When they realize that it’s Ian’s birthday the whole club joins in. People trick themselves into thinking they can drink more if they pretend that there is an occasion, Mickey’s learned. He drinks whatever Jason brings him, and doesn’t try to talk to the people he doesn’t know. He only knows Ian, Mandy, Jason and the employees who don’t really have much time to chat. It’s fine, he is content with drinking and watching his boyfriend have fun with other people. Mandy is sucking faces with some dude Mickey was sure is gay, but he is hopeless when it comes to guessing other people’s preferences. He watches with interest as Ian moves with the rhythm of a song and guys hit on him, not trying to be subtle or to pretend they want anything but sex. They touch his toned arms, back and even hips. The redhead doesn’t seem to notice, lost in the dance, oblivious to the hands gliding over his freckled skin.  
Someone taps him on the arm, and then Jason sits so close to him that their arms and thighs touch.  
“Should I go and scare them off your boy?”  
“Nah, if he wants to fuck someone, he will.” Jason simply nods in agreement. That’s true, if someone wants to cheat on you, they will. It’s not your job to protect them from the temptations. They sit together for a while, and when Jason goes back to work Mickey gets a lap full of a hot, literally hot, ginger.  
“How drunk are you?”  
“I had one glass of champagne. I’m just happy,” Ian murmurs into his ear. “I’m going to give you a lap dance, and then I’m going to fuck you in the backroom, that sounds good to you?”  
Mickey had lap dances before, but they were nowhere near as enthusiastic, or filthy, as what the redhead is doing. Ian is basically riding his dick, unbothered by the presence of other people, and dances from tired, bored strippers could never compare with that. When the wolf-whistling starts they move their two people party to the backroom, and Mickey gets fucked. He doesn’t see how eating his ass until he turns into a shivering, wet mess is fun for the younger man, but it has to be since Ian’s cock feels painfully swollen when Mickey rolls a condom on it with his mouth.  
The next day Mickey has a huge hangover, and gets up in the afternoon rather than in the morning. Ian is no longer in his bed, not even in the house. There is a note left on a fridge with Mandy’s pretty handwriting, which explains that they went shopping. Mickey’s glad he didn’t get dragged into that. He texts Jake and half an hour later they’re eating a delicious, greasy pizza. His friend is a bit too energetic for how much Mickey’s temples throb, but then again Jake wasn’t invited to the party. It’s weird that instead of being offended the other man simply teases him about it, and then gives him the most amazing head massage in the whole universe. Apparently Jake knows all about massages because his sister’s headaches can get pretty bad, and for one second Mickey considers pretending that his head hurts more often than it really does, just to have a valid excuse. Then he realizes that if he buys Jake some food and cheap beer the other man is probably going to do it anyway.  
Mickey falls asleep almost against his will, he wants to enjoy the massage while he can, but it’s just too good. Especially since he’s never really been massaged before.

Ian buys a lot of new clothes he doesn’t need and a shirt for Mickey. It’s in a gorgeous deep blue colour, and he knows it will be at least a little bit tight on his boyfriend. It’s why he bought it, and judging from Mandy’s reaction when she saw it – he isn’t fooling anyone either. Mick might not notice, though, he doesn’t care much for clothes. Mandy begrudgingly told him some stories about her brother, and it seems that Ian is lucky that the older man became a fan of regular baths and changing clothes. Not that he minds a bit of dirt on his man, but he suspects that in Mickey’s case it could get quite extreme.   
He is in a great mood up until he enters Mick’s room, which is suspiciously quiet, and finds Jake curled around his boyfriend. Spooning him. And, despite what he does next, he feels quite calm on the inside. Maybe because he doesn’t really let himself think, he just drags Jake out of Mickey’s bed, slams him into the wall couple times and then manages to throw a punch, breaking Jake’s nose, before the other man properly wakes up and fights back. It says a lot about Mick’s upbringing that it takes him good few minutes to wake up. By then they’re already covered in blood, snarling at each other like animals.  
“What the fuck Gallagher?! Jake?” Mickey tries to separate them and gets an elbow in the face for his effort. That’s what finally stops the fighting, but they start arguing over who hit him. Mickey takes a step back to sit on the bed to be able to stare at them until one of them explains what’s happened.  
“He assaulted me while I was sleeping,” Jake says grumpily while trying to check his nose. Mickey sighs heavily and beckons him to come closer. His friend cries out when his nose is set, but at least it will save him a trip to the doctor.  
“You were sleeping in my boyfriend’s bed.”  
“He is my fucking friend!”  
“Oh I bet you would love to fuck him!” It looks like they’re going to start again, so Mickey tells Jake to go home and then closes his bedroom door, not wanting Mandy to see their fight.   
“Jake is my friend, Jake is not gay, how fucking difficult is it to understand?!”  
“And how difficult it is to understand that I’m jealous of him?! Huh? You’re so close that half of the time I think he is your boyfriend and not me.”  
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. I’m not choosing between the two of you. He is a good friend, I’m not letting him go just because you don’t think I can have friends without fucking them,” Mickey’s hands clench like he wants to hit the younger man.  
“Why is it so easy to talk to him, but not me? I know I failed you, and I’m so fucking sorry, you can’t even imagine how much I regret that, but our relationship will never work if you won’t forget about it. You wanna know why Jake bothers me so much? It’s because I have no idea how you feel, if you even feel anything for me. I worry about Jake, about Jason, about fucking Svetlana, and about every random dude I see checking you out on the street. It’s fine if you can’t love me, but just be honest about it! ‘Cause I can’t live like that.” Ian storms out and goes to his room, locking the door. When he touches his face he discovers that it’s wet with tears he didn’t feel falling. He lets himself cry, it’s the only thing he can think of that can make him feel at least slightly better. 

They don’t talk for a week and a half.   
It happened before, but this time it feels suffocating. Mickey can’t stand it. Even more so when Ian continues to prepare meals for him. Every morning there is a smoothie waiting for him in the fridge, lunch box packed with a healthy, balanced meal, and he comes home to a usually delicious dinner. Mandy sometimes eats with him, but Ian never does, he just makes everything and then disappears, eyes firmly glued to the floor every time they stumble upon each other. Mickey misses touching him.   
He waits for the weekend, but Ian doesn’t go anywhere, he stays holed up in his room, coming out only to get snacks. The older man worries, but the redhead doesn’t seem sick, just sad. And Mickey gets that. He doesn’t want to hurt Ian, but he isn’t going to promise anything until he knows it’s good for him. He is not a self-sacrificing fool Mandy seems to take him for. Jumping head first into situations never ends well for him. So he spends a lot of time thinking about what will be good for the redhead, but mostly – about what will be good for him. Jason gives him some helpful advice, but it’s a long conversation with Jake that helps him make a decision. He hopes it’s a good one, and that it won’t leave them broken.   
He waits two days before paying Ian a midnight visit. The younger man wakes when Mickey sits on his bed, and for a while they just blink at each other in silence.  
“What are you doing here?” Ian asks tiredly.   
“I’m fucked up. There are no pills that will make it better. I’ve seen and being through the shit I want to forget about but can’t, and I have huge trust issues. I know it’s not fucking manly or whatever, but that’s how the things are with me. It’s not really what you did, though it did hurt and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t matter, but it’s probably mostly me not believing that someone can love me. Even my parents don’t, so how can anyone else? It doesn’t make sense in my head. I know I’m a good fuck, guys always enjoy that aspect. But is there anything else to me? I don’t know,” Mickey ignores Ian’s hand which covers one of his. “You deserve better, college boy. I’m afraid that one day you will find it, and I will stay behind like some unwanted toy.”  
“I’m not like that, I’m sorry, I…”  
“See, I know you are not. You changed. You are a good guy most of the time. My insecurities, or whatever, are playing mind games with me. It’s not only your fault. It’s not fair to you. You love me, maybe I didn’t want to see it before, but recently I just couldn’t ignore it. Even Mandy told me yesterday that maybe you aren’t a bad choice. Mandy, man. Fuck, Jake said that I should just let go and give us a chance.”  
“He did?”  
“Yeah, apparently it’s so obvious that we love each other that he wants to throw up every time he is around us. I think he is exaggerating.”   
Mickey waits for a few seconds for the information to sink in and when it does Ian crushes his fingers in a strong grip.   
“Don’t cry, gingersnap.”  
“I’m going to love the hell out of you,” Ian outright sobs, and there is nothing else Mickey can do but hug him until the crying stops. It takes long enough for the both of them to get tired again, and Mickey doubts that Ian is going to attend any classes tomorrow. 

Mandy wakes them up. She is probably aiming at waking only Ian, but since Mickey is there with Gallagher serving as his blanket, she gets a surprise 2-in-1 combo. She shrieks, and then she is rendered speechless for an uncomfortably long time. They can’t move because they’re both sporting erections, and neither of them wants Mandy to see it.   
Ian is also hoping for a half-asleep quicky before Mickey has to go to work.  
“You made up,” Mandy finally concludes, her face difficult to read. She doesn’t seem happy, but she isn’t angry either, and that’s already better than what they faced before.   
“We did. We talked yesterday,” Mickey confirms, his voice firm.   
“Okay. Cool. Just don’t… don’t hurt each other again.”  
Ian’s face softens, and he nods energetically, trying to show that he really means it. He is not lying, he isn’t going to sabotage their relationship ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The whole fic. It definitely isn't my best one, but I haven't written anything this long in a long while, and it never happened in English before, so I'm quite happy.   
> Thank you for all the kudos and lovely comments, they really kept me going.


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